They tilt their head and stay their hand. Now that the threat has waned, the purpose for their control of this body has been left - vague. The body in which they reside has never given itself to them freely, with absolute cooperation.

They do not owe it, surely.

But they do not have anything else - anyone else. The small quailing thing in front of them is their only familiar constant, and there is a nagging insistence in the corner of their brain where they usually sleep.

They pause, and wait.

Slowly, cautiously, deliberately - they raise a hand to mirror his.