They aren't words that he can make out clearly, so he does not bother commenting on them. Instead, he bats Gen's hand away from his face with a few limp-wristed swats of his palm. "Be still. You have the same ailment that has stricken the rest of this town. We needs provide you with a cure, lest the rest of the city join you."

Emet-Selch takes a deep breath as the air around them suddenly becomes oppressive. He had managed to stave off the illness for the most part, but as he stands this close to Gen the ends of his hair begin to lose their color.

"The cure requires some manner of - " He inhales heavily again. It is so difficult to focus all of a sudden.