After a moment of hesitation, the darking reaches a tendril out in Andrew's direction. It feels a bit like a water balloon, being made of liquid... blood, more specifically, but Daine isn't about to share that. It's probably more than she even ought to know.

"Andrew," the darking repeats, though it's not exactly a stranger to him, as Andrew's already surmised. "Friend?" it asks hopefully, lifting its head. Daine bites back an anxious smile, hoping Andrew won't hurt the poor thing's feelings. Or start peppering it with questions. She's not sure which would be worse.