Emet-Selch is, of course, well aware of how depleted his comrade has been of late - the losses in his aether can be linked directly to his brief return home and there's a soft, quiet part of him that has no desire to place more of a burden upon his shoulders. Not when he has much aether to spare and the ability to use it well here, given the strange feeling of nostalgic familiarity.

It is also true that there is no one alive who might match his Aethersight. That leaves him with a little pang in his heart, to think of souls long gone.

"It should be easy enough, yes," he confirms with a nod of his head. His eyes drag over to Elidibus, taking him in, before he huffs a little. Best to play this as arrogance rather than concern, he thinks, and so he does, stepping away and lifting a hand. "I'll not need your assistance, I assure you. I'm quite capable."

His hand is in the air, raised, and he quirks an eyebrow.

"Are you ready?"