(It wouldn't be practical, no. He catches at his own arm afterward, unrelatedly.)

He's quick and confident when he follows, but their pause has him step back a pace or two to allow them some space. If they hadn't taken the picture, he'd considered sneaking it out. It should be rescued from here, he'd thought at the time.

It doesn't matter now; they should be the one to have it, and one way or another he thinks he'd have made sure. Lemm watches the way they linger over it. And he clears his throat, and settles a hand firmly on their shoulder.

"Stash it upright," he advises. "Nowhere too damp nor too dry. Light above ground'll fade it, if it's too direct."

Lemm does not have a better language to say this is important.