Ah, there it is. The explanation of that strange unease Hythlodaeus has felt since walking up to Emet-Selch. It's not just his friend's appearance that's changed since he saw him last, his entire demeanor is different, his reactions dimmed and clouded by a darkness that seems to hang over him like a cloud. And those words... those words hold no real meaning to Hythlodaeus, because they don't make sense.

Impossible for him to be here? Maybe, but just as probably as Emet-Selch being here himself. The real him? Well, Hythlodaeus doesn't even really know where to go with that. Sure, magical stand-ins are a practice at times, but they are nothing but mere illusions and a collection of aether, something that Emet-Selch should never mistake him with. And thousands of lifetimes...?

At the very least, there is one point in what Emet-Selch says that makes some form of sense, although Hythlodaeus' own resolve had still been in question at the time he was taken from.

"Loathe as I am to admit it, I'm not sure I'm following your logic, my friend," he's speaking gently, dropping his hands from their defensive stance to press one over his chest instead. "But I assure you, I am real. Or, I suppose, as real as anyone can be sure of in this place. Given our strange... 'rebirth'."