Which is just as well. It's bad enough that he's aware of his uselessness in the moment without another standing by and agreeing with him. Emet-Selch closes his eyes, as if it'll will away the ache. When he scowls this time, it somehow seems more real than the others he uses more generously on the day-to-day.

"Depends," he replies tersely. "Was this before or after the Intellect Devourers ambushed me in the middle of a blizzard? Going outside was obviously a mistake. Colder than a ticket taker's smile at the Imperial Theatre on an Earthsday night."