Semyon managed to quirk a slight smile, listening to Nestor speak and accepting the flask offered back to him. The Wight couldn't taste anymore, and if any liquid managed to make it down the remains of his throat, it would likely end up staining his shirt. But he took it anyways, bringing it to his mouth as he mimed drinking a shot, lowering it with a sharp shake of his head before carefully wiping the liquor from his lips. It was about what he'd seen numerous people do before over the years, and could vaguely recall doing himself long ago. Nestor was speaking quickly about the drink itself and where he got the flask, so Semyon hoped he wouldn't notice the fake, handing back the flask with a grateful nod.

"Leaving the living world isn't something I... like to do, but I know someone who would be very interested in finding this shantytown of yours." Following the man's gaze, Semyon turned to look over by the tree as well- eyes widening slightly at the sight of their new arrival.

"A good question, would that be the one we were trying to rescu-"

A sharp, keening wail assaulted Semyon from just beyond the embracing Tamarind-and-newcomer, coming from the torn air behind them. It dug into his essence as a thousand worrying needles, accompanied by a chilling wave that caused the Wight to shudder for the first time in a century. Wincing back, his hand snapped to draw his weapon again, ready to levy it at the offending portal and open fire. What would it do? Probably nothing, probably make things worse, but he would [i]not[/i] lose his fight standing still in dumb surprise.

There was too much more to do. Even with more than two and a half centuries of toil, there was [i]so[/i] much more to do...

Thankfully, the one he'd least expect leaped forwards to allay both the sudden pain and deep, paralyzing fear.

The young lady-reaper and her hound must have noticed the tear even before he did, her scythe now starkly visible to Semyon's eyes as he watched her work to close that wailing door. Not only working to bring someone back from the dead, but also to protect them from what might try to follow? He shouldn't have been surprised, but it came on anyways, backed by a lifetime of concerns. An agent of Death, yet she acted more the part of a comrade than anything else, it was a completely new experience.

"Ok, then..." Semyon stumbled to the side in relief, concealing the motion swiftly under the pretense of kneeling down to re-pack and retrieve his bag. Gloved hands slipped everything away neatly, closed them home, and rose with firm movements once more. His gaze swept across those gathered around him, ending with a shake of his pale head.

"That was... unexpected. Has our task been successful, then?"