While Hel gave him the details, Hades remembered his manners and pulled out a chair for her. Hades was a bit sad that they'd had to turn to business, but the case Hel described was fascinating. Under normal circumstances, Hades would have consulted his records, but he already knew there wasn't a precedence. A request to transfer from one Underworld to another was unusual enough that Hades would have remembered had it happened before.
“It's Helga's afterlife,” Hades said, “As long as she was buried properly, and the rites were performed for her, I don't see why she shouldn't spend it in the Underworld that she wishes. So long as it's alright with you.” Helga's case was an interesting predicament, but Hades didn't believe a person should be judged or roped into any category based solely on who their father was. That wasn't something anyone could help.
He eyed the door that led to his record chamber. “We certainly have room for her. All it would really take is getting the records worked out, and I wouldn't mind looking into that for her. I like extra work during the warm seasons.” When Hades was completely occupied with managing his realm, his thoughts had a harder time turning to other things that he didn't want to think about. Like plants. Or the people who made them grow.