"'Tis a complicated subject," he admits, "but I wouldn't think too deeply on any choice you make. Even the most thoughtful selection can run poorly, while a haphazard one may turn well. It's all chance in the end."

With his successes and failures in the field, Emet-Selch isn't entirely sure how he even feels about Bonding at this point. Fatalistically pragmatic, he supposed. Whatever choices he made were irrelevant to any conclusion, but sometimes he couldn't help but pretend otherwise.

But he snorts slightly at her response, unbothered by the bluntness. "But I'm relieved to have your lukewarm approval. As you're not taking the first opportunity to flee, I'm assuming you're the sociable type. A flaw I'm accustomed to tolerating, unfortunately." And his sigh is a degree too theatrical to seem genuinely put-upon by the hassle. "So what do you make of being here? This underground, the land above, whichever."