[He can tell Emet is struggling, at least he imagines he is. The Exarch isn't great at reading Emet-Selch specifically, but he's practiced with people. On the other hand, he's contending with his own anxiety over this whole exchange. He's tempted to rip off the cowl right now, almost; he's in his own domain, he doesn't think the Ascian would blow up their kitchen or something over the revelation that it was obvious all along.

But... he can't. Not yet. Part of him hesitates, fingertips trembling against his robes before he folds his arms. He'd be gripping his staff if it were on him. It's nearby, at least.

He breathes in through his teeth.]

There is only one thing in this world that bids me gaze upon the face of my tormentor, willingly and openly, mayhap even to cooperate with that dread shadow. And it is not something as small-minded as spite.

[He sets his shoulders.]

But what is another ghost to dog my step-- another nightmare to haunt my slumber? Long have I had the company of both, and I will continue to do so until my watch is ended.

... I will not convince you of aught and I do not wish to. I refuse to be entrusted with anything unless it is readily given.