Lifting his head from where it's rested against the back of his chaise, Emet-Selech huffs softly, before he brings his legs up under him and then stretches.

"I haven't had time to do much of anything," he replies, airily dismissing the idea that he might take good care of himself. "Beyond rest my eyes some." Slinging one arm up on the chair's arm, while the other hang along his side, hand on his hip. He absolutely knows that he looks amazing, and makes no effort to hide it. After all, he knows why Hythlodaeus is here.

The game is now afoot.