At worst, he thinks of his chains as mildly uncomfortable, because even though his body is here, the rest of him is always somewhere else. It gives him much to think about, because as long as his mind’s eyes are fixed on anything but the dreary prison walls, there will be work to do. (He’s the type of person who keeps busy in order to make his body forget everything else.)
He pens a letter by candlelight, and writes as if he could see through multiple layers of walls.
When he’s finished, he seals it and sends it along with his heart, hoping that it will reach its destination as soon as possible. And as he bids his heart farewell, he thinks this kind of life is okay – it’s not great, to be sure, but it’s okay – because he has more than enough hearts to give away.