Maybe he wasn't resisting. They can be wiley. [It's not always about strength, and Willow knows that very well.

She nods immediately at the question, though it tips her hat forward, and Willow is reminded she's still in costume. She merely raises a hand and gives a sharp snap of her fingers, and the costume falls away like leaves fluttering to the ground, vanishing before the scraps of cloth touch it. It leaves her in local clothes, much more practical and unremarkable.]

I'm ready. We should trace where he was, see if we can figure out when the... whatever it was, happened.