Being labeled as ridiuclous almost seems whimsical in stark contrast to the knife pointed at him. "At least one cannot fault me for my dedication," Emet-Selch responds with a verbal shrug of his voice.

He walks along with her to the cell doors, albeit with a few clumsy steps given she is nearly on his heels. The guards pull them open for them and he proceeds through without complaint.

When they are through the doors and his potential 'threat' to their guest subsides, he gingerly lifts a hand to the knife and tries to coax it from his neck with the gentle push of his fingers. "If I no longer have business here, then by your leave, I will return to our ally's sides." There have been other confrontations in the past few days that required his healing attention. Suppose he should pay his own wounds some mind as well.

"Mayhap you would care to bestow your threats upon me in the near future; I should be interested to hear of anything which would prevent such oversights from happening again." Perhaps he could use it as an opportunity to see if he could unearth any information about the alchemy experiments in that underground chamber he had explored some time ago. Ones which seem to tamper with the very same Kenoma he had used here.