"Oh, you found them, that's good," Emil says, pleasantly, relieved. He's got one of his hands clutched loosely up near his chest, and sets one foot carefully forward, toeing around before taking a step. He seems used to the ginger action, at least, and certainly doesn't topple over or anything. "Yeah, I think we should be all right. And - " Brightly, and earnestly, he turns his face toward Joe, and, smiling, gives a nod of assurance. "I'll protect you too! It's best if we both do it, right? I don't want anything to happen to you, either."

He doesn't sound frightened at all, now, just very grateful, and quite certain of what he's just said. Anyway, it can sometimes be hard to let people protect him, since there's the risk of them being hurt, and no one should hurt for him. It's just not right.

He does pause for a moment, though, and looks a little like he wants to wobble, but refrains from doing so. "There are an awful lot of people in this field," he says vaguely, swiveling his head around this way and that. The cluster of anxious voices is more than he used to; it's a little bit overwhelming for him. "Say, you don't see any sticks laying around, do you? Any long ones?"