"My bedroom is expecting no bodies save for my own and Erichthonios, and he is busying himself elsewhere at the moment."

He does not manhandle Angeal, not really, merely progvides him with encouraging guidance as they make their way up the stairs. Themis knows that he will appreciate the guidance at present. It is easier, sometimes, for another to make the simple decisions for one undergoing as much mental strain as Angeal appears to be going through. Nothing horrendously invasive, never that, but the pace at which they move - a hand on the waist, to shepherd towards the intended room.

Another, pressed to Angeal's shoulder to sit him down on Themis's bed while Themis settles down next to him. With the door securely shut and locked and the windows sealed with bolts and magic, they are in as safe of a location as the Emissary can provide.

The curtains are drawn. A soft glow illuminates the room - a glowing crystal set in a holder, used as a lamp.

"My shoulder is open to you," said with a soft smile, "I have been told that it is especially comfortable as of late." But he will not press.