The way that his mouth hung slightly open betrayed just how caught off-guard he was. Thankfully, he wasn't a blusher.
"But this isn't a fickle thing," Gilmore managed to reply as he took up steps behind Vax. "Where you are, this plane of existence, wherever it is, there's no going back. Stricter than a deal with a Devil. But this isn't like the Feywild, or even the Hells. Preya isn't even on Bauer's Treatise on the Outer Planes!"
The sorcerer let out an exasperated breath, realizing he might sound boorish in that moment to a person who hadn't earned it. He raked his fingers through his long, dark hair. "But," he said, biting the word, "be that as it may. You're here. So, Vax'ildan, it's been five years since we saved Tal'dorei. Considering how much excitement you get up to in a year's time, I cannot imagine your adventures."
Then, summoning up a shred of his normal bravado, the man mused with a deep, rumbling laugh, "Though, I like to think that adventuring is hardly the same without your reliable supplier of magical goods."
Once they made it off the beach, Gilmore tossed down his sandals and slipped his feet into them. Thankfully, being dry, the sand wasn't sticking to his skin. "But what about the others," he asked, "what about your sister, what about Keyleth?"
Out of it all, perhaps that's what had Gilmore the most confused.