Elayne nibbles on her bottom lip in concern. The truth is she doesn't want to lose him, either. Creepy, unsettling, and possessive as he sometimes is, he is the first person to show her kindness and interest in a long time. Not to mention he's terribly interesting. And not terribly bad-looking, either.
The long sigh she emits is an attempt to banish these thoughts and the embarrassment they bring her. Her hand comes up to touch his in an effort to get him to release the painful pressure on her arm. "Is there a way? Several days ago, around when we first started talking, you said something about... me being able to summon you, wasn't it? Would that accomplish it?"
Illim's brow wrinkles as Myitt addresses him--or, rather, Serid. It's difficult to distance himself from the strange, sharp negative feeling that wells up in him when she looks at him with such irritation.
"I hope you're listening to this," he mumbles aloud to his host, who is fuming with even greater agitation than before.
<<How dare she presume to understand? How dare she compare her life, the wrongs done to her, with mine?>>
Illim sighs. <<You know, Serid, I think she's right. Besides, the longer you dwell on this, the longer we go without food, without Kandrona. There's a potential lifesaver for us here -- an opportunity to truly do something in this damned war. And you're letting a grudge against an Andalite you haven't seen in thirteen years stand in your way? You're a damned, damned fool.>>
Serid has no verbal response, although it is clear to Illim that his words have not helped matters at all. He drops his eyes from Myitt's.
Tora can't help but watch Myitt while she talks. Something strikes her as odd--or maybe surprising--about their exchange, although she can't quite put her finger on what.
