[Yes, this is probably the worst planned and organized tea-making Ingo has ever attempted! He turns to search the shelves for dishes as well, quieter this time until Emmet finds them first and he turns back to the fire as well.]

...this is not really ideal.

[He dumps some leaves in the makeshift pot anyway. They'll just...deal with it. He guesses. He keeps his eyes on the embers as Emmet speaks, trying to determine the most appropriate course of action.]

I can understand that. People go missing in the wilds sometimes. It is not...good, to find a body, but it is better than finding nothing at all.

[He knows how it works. He knows five years was an absurd amount of time to hold space for him. That space wasn't exactly for him, though, was it...? It's for the man he was before.]