It is just an assumption, but Dextera feels as qualified as anyone to speak on the spectrum of life until death. He knows his own limits, he knows when he should have died under the circumstances they faced upon their initial arrival here, and he also feels comfortable saying he’s hardier than the average human resident of Horos.

But he hasn’t really had the time or the reason to investigate that further, and a plague is probably not the best time to do so in a controlled environment.

Although he nods to confirm the contents of Emet-Selch’s guess, a slight frown—a scrunch of the nose, different from the woeful expression he always wears—crosses his face at the conclusion. It’s not evident whether he’s frowning at the humor, or the acknowledgment that it’s still possible for them to die.