Emet-Selch doesn't waste any time, though neither does he rush the exchange. Indeed, he still proves a bit wobbly upon his feet, his head twinging if he moves about too abruptly or deigns to lean too far one way or another. Still, he manages. Experience and pure stubbornness have him properly dressed with mask hanging about his neck in exactly ten minutes' time. The borrowed trappings he folds up neatly on one corner of the bedsheets... and the bed, too, is set, the pillows fluffed. It's...an incredibly pointless exercise, really. And yet he'd still prefer to leave this unfamiliar space a little tidier than it was.

A quiet thump indicates the door closing behind him as Emet-Selch makes his way gingerly towards the other man.

He still lacks the energy for the sort of thorough questioning he'd otherwise subject his keeper to, but there is one thing to be said. It's only proper.

"I'll be taking my leave from here, I suppose. Still, you have my thanks. For not leaving me out in the snow."