There's always another day they can regard Hythlodaeus' art, and if Emet's to be honest, he's far more interested in Dirk's own art form, and what he has to say about it. As he goes on about them, gesturing with that eye and smuppet in either hand, Emet gives him his full attention. A smile curling his lips, as his arms cross over his chest.

By the end of it, he's not sure if he should be as endeared as he is by Dirk's clear love for these puppets, particularly when they're so...well, what they are. But he is. The passion he has for them, despite his general aloof way in which he holds himself, is plain, and passionate souls always resonate with him. Particularly artistic souls.

"I have found that aught at all can be regarded as juvenile, but more oft than naught such is born and bred through ignorance." He offers as he looks to the smuppet in Dirk's hand, "most do not wish to know nor understand something that seems strange to them, and so instead such is met with harsh scrutiny and judgment. Infantilization in some cases."

Letting his arms fall to his side out of the cross over his chest, he walks over to Dirk, reaching over to take the smuppet from his hand if he'll let him. Wanting to examine the thing, "you may find it interesting, that even in Amaurot, well before the time of man, we had our own marionettes—though fair different than these of your particular fancy."