Killian was a man who had never channeled his grief in healthy ways - and now that Ariel was gone from this place, with him discovering nothing but empty shelves where all her junk should have been, and cool sheets where her very warm presence should have been, he was struggling. He'd returned to drinking as a coping mechanism, and he spent inordinate amounts of time at the tavern he'd essentially built - it was better than being in a small space that only reminded him of her. There were also a thousand things he could have done to deal with the sorrow and heartbreak - he could have hurt others just how he was aching down to the marrow of his bones, or he could have taken his own life as many times as necessary to pull a cloak of death over him for good, or he could engage in self-destructive behavior. Drinking and fucking anything on two legs. Likely that would be the option he'd choose, because he didn't know what else to do. He didn't know how to deal with how cold he was, all the time, so cold it made his brain go into a tailspin.
(She wouldn't have wanted him to regress into misery, he tried to keep that in mind.)
Jemma was pleasant, however. She was there and solid company, and he didn't mind talking to her if it helped her adjust to this place - though how could anyone really get used to the cruelty of Marrowood, he didn't know. Still, she was also new (sort of) and didn't bother him the way others might. Or others who would have told him he was foolish for loving someone, for choosing someone in Hell - but you know what? The fact that you would choose each other in Hell said a lot, spoke volumes about the power of that connection, and he didn't regret it.
"Not always," he responded, pausing from where he was sharpening his hook. With him he also had an array of swords, a few knives, even a blunderbuss that had been upgraded. "There are breaks in between torture and death, for us to pretend to live rather pointlessly. Which is not too exciting." An eyebrow lifted, and he assessed her weapons. "How good are you with a sword, love?"
They'd need all hands on deck here. He was going to defend these walls with everything in him. Mostly he wanted to kill something without consequence as well - but that was a whole other topic.