[ That Viktor is always warm surprises him sometimes. He doesn't forget so much as he's just made aware every time they touch that Viktor is alive, that he's warm, real. A reminder he is alive. The heat of fresh baked bread pales in comparison, much as Emet-Selch is reticent to touch Viktor when he's been eating with those hands and hasn't washed them. He doesn't think Viktor will care. ]

I would brag about myself and my particularly clever endeavors if anyone besides you would understand the scale and scope, let alone why they were impressive or clever.

[ Not so much a complaint as it is a weary observation. Viktor's reassurance prompts him to tilt his head, watching Viktor's wayward gaze drift about, sneaking a look at Emet-Selch. ]

I do not expect you to pry, but neither do I expect either of us to...effectively guide the magic, untested as it is. 'Tis less a matter of guiding and more a matter of...swimming against the current should said current attempt to drag you under.

[ If he's being honest, he hates the idea of flaying himself open, allowing anyone - even Viktor, maybe especially Viktor, the ability to look at the softest parts of himself. The ability to see souls hadn't always been a deeply personal ability - a rare one certainly, but ultimately unexciting given aught else he could do. Now, it is long past novelty and into something else entirely, and that, combined with the memories attached- he will do what is necessary. Even if he is not thrilled about it. ]

'Tis a warning to myself as much as you.

[ Of the two of them, Emet-Selch knows he cannot be considered less emotional, even if he masks it better. ]