Animals picts, of all things ? Hagar can't lie, it makes him curious. Weren't the sanctity of his mission - And of his well-being, he must admit - in danger, he'd perhaps waste some hours staring at them himself. The idea of simply sitting, gazing upon a cogitator as unfiltered joy unfurls before your eyes... It must be a beautiful sensation, one he perhaps should try one day, when less obliged to his kin.

"You sound tired... It's alright, you did what you had to do."

Hagar lays a hand upon the ruined priest's chest. Another, a little down his back. And slowly, he pushes him downwards, softly letting the unfortunate soul lay upon the wet ground they were sullying. Only one of them had to commit the effort of going further, and Hagar would rather have this curse to be his.

"Here, stay down. Don't think about any of that anymore. You're here, right under the warm rain, and that's all you have to consider. We'll handle whatever's out there ourselves."

It was a voice that creaked horrendously like dead wood, yet somehow, soothing to the tortured ears, or for whatever would it be those of Mars use to replace their auditory means, of which he knows little.

"Though I could... Stay a little longer."