[ He lets his eyes slip shut at the first remark, a small acquiescence. Yeah. Doesn't he know it. That's why he's here; he assumes that's why Emet-Selch is here, too. That's why they need to tear everything down, facilitate things so that they can start fresh.

Cracks his eyes open again at what sounds almost like encouragement. Fuck, he's tired, but this is important. ]

Sticks're different here too, aren't they. [ Where magic is the weapon of choice, more that regular might. It is something he's gonna have to wrap his head around. ] Yeah. I'll figure it out.

[ Amos lets his eyes shut again, and it could give off the impression that he's fallen back asleep, except for the part where he speaks up again, voice alert as ever. ]

Promise you I'm not gonna fuck around with it. I'm treating it seriously. Can't afford not to now — so you got nothing to worry about on my end.

[ He says, exhausted and having nearly died some mere hours ago, and yet meaning it all the same. ]