True enough.

( Hythlodaeus confirms, and a pang of nostalgia lances through his gut at the thought of all three of them snug and safe, together, in the warmth of his bed. The moment quickly fades as he realises there's yet more pressing information he needs to pass on: )

Speaking of Azem. You might find that there are ... ah. ( Hythlodaeus doesn't want to keep Emet-Selch in the dark and maintain the idea that they're Azem's familiars, so he considers his words carefully for a moment before pressing on. ) A number of people here bearing the same hue as our dear friend's soul — the same hue as the soul that killed you, if I'm able to put all this together correctly.

( His expression takes on a far-away quality as he looks towards the window, his gaze fixed somewhere on a sliver of sky. )

Each one of them is a shard of their own world's Azem — who may differ still from the Azem we remember. ( But that's not entirely accurate, is it. ) ... That I remember.

( Which has certain implications for the two men in this bed, doesn't it? )