[Quite an open-ended invitation, that. Emet-Selch finds himself slightly taken aback by it, forced to stop and think of...something intelligent to make of their dark and dim surroundings, and the fact this young girl would be curious what someone she's never met before would have to say about nothing in particular.]

I think you underestimate the cold. I would also hazard a guess that whatever's on your mind must be a rather heavy topic if you'd come to this place to mull it over alone.

[He glances up at the sky.]

The rest is equally predictable: "Why am I here?" "Who or what, precisely, is it which has pulled me away from my duty, and what am I to make of it all?" 'Tis almost funny the things one takes for granted until he lacks the ability to use them in any truly meaningful way.