Neville might never learn how close he had come to suffering the same fate as the now-dead rat; when he snuffed the light out, Elektra's first instinct was to attack before she was attacked.
It was possible, though not likely, that he wasn't himself.
It was possible, though not likely, that he had lured her here deliberately.
But then words appeared out of thin air, glowing and easy to read, and Elektra was glad to have hesitated that one extra half-second. She wiped the thrown knife on her thigh and said only, "Ah." Because the past twenty-four hours had primed her to believe that 'hotel magic' had to play a part in whatever was happening.
The music she could still faintly hear playing in the depths of the maze didn't hurt, either.
She slid one blade into her boot and stuck the other in a crack in the wall. Then, by the fading light of Neville's floating words, she signed, "Can you understand this?" ASL would have been her go-to if she thought Neville could understand it. But having spoken to him before, she knew he was British. So, still a stab in the dark, but better than nothing.