The defeat in Dirk's choice of words and actions—though less in his tone—tells Emet much and more the severity of the pain he's in. That he would give up like this, acquiesce to Emet's reasonable request, is worrying. Truly, it is why Emet heeds it with caution, advances with just as much. Few would describe any movement Emet does as quick, however he finds himself especially motivated as he positions himself to lift Dirk from his collapsed position against the futon—bridal style.

Before he stands, however, Dirk might begin to feel his afflicted leg growing lighter, as if the very weight of it is being supported by an invisible force—which it is. Invisible to their eyes are Emet's trio of yamask gently supporting his leg with their ghostly mitts. They had been watching the whole thing, lying in wait to act, and finally found their cue.

"Trust me, my dear boy, this is the far better option." As he speaks his voice is low and quiet, reassuring in tone. "Come, rest your head upon my bosom, the trip will not be too horribly long."