Blake was already seated, his chair rocking back onto two legs with his foot propped up on the cell's iron bars. Blake doubted, sincerely doubted, that a holding like this would hold a Kumiho that didn't want to be held unless it was enchanted somehow.
Sometimes, when an animal was bigger and stronger than you, like with a horse, all you needed was the illusion of control. The horse accepted this control as law, such as a thin lead rope laying over a tree branch. In their mind, they were trapped, while in reality, all they had to do was pull a little harder and be free.
A Kumiho was not a horse.
Blake absently rubbed his beard, pale green eyes watching Jae thoughtfully as she drank and talked with Jojo. She seemed subdued and accepting of her illusion of a cage. Like the horse and the rope, all Jae had to do was pull and be free. For this reason, Blake still thought the dungeons were a ridiculous overkill of the situation. His opinions were rarely taken seriously in this place.
At least the cell had all the comforts of a dorm room. It had running water, a bed, soft plush rug, chair with a desk, books, writing tools, and a computer, should Jae desire to hop on the network. Considering her self isolation in a medieval dungeon, Blake doubted she'd take advantage of such luxuries.