He takes a moment to be...rather touched by that. Atem's insistent on prodding at him, sure, but he's not a bad sort, is he.

"Isn't Hadriel a mystery?" Ianchus looks up around the Clinic, thoughtfully. "I don't appreciate being the plaything of a god, but...there are so many people I never would have met otherwise. Perhaps that's worth a broken rib or two."

He pauses, and then with a deadpan face: "Of course, I'd prefer if they weren't the cause of said broken ribs." Except for in very specific circumstances, of course.