Cloud's words cause Elidibus to slow in his kneading of the dough ever-so-slightly. The flicker of something passes through his dim eyes before snuffing out like the last candle of an evening put to rest. It is not surprising that Cloud noted his absence, no, but it is unusual for the other to comment on such things. Nothing Elidibus had done was with the expectation of any reciprocation, after all.

He deliberates, but ultimately truth beats deflection to the fore.

"When I awoke, I had forgotten where I was. It required the day to remind myself that I was still whole," the words are small, soft. Spoken so that even any others in the bakery would not hear, despite whatever augmentations they may have.