His flitting in that cage of hands increased at the sheer notion of staying in this castle away from his daughter, away from his shop and tools and livelihood. A part of him thought that if he had the old powers, nothing would ever cage him for long, not even perfectly sealed containers. He'd find a way.

In this big clawed hands, he was just a little bird and at any moment those hands could close and crush him to death. "But what use would you have of me? Surely you aren't so lonely as to need a prisoner to speak to over a simple admiration of your music box. Surely there must be something else that would satisfy you?"

Vanishing without a trace wouldn't be so bad if he lived a different life. In this one, he had responsibilities.