Tara doesn't realize at first that she's back in control of her own body, and she nearly collapses back against the floor.
Catching herself with her hands sprawled behind her, she looks left and right, gasping, "Oh, Christ, I didn't expect that..." She swallows and shakily brings herself to her sitting position again, wincing at the pain in her bloody palms.
"Okay, it's Tara," she says, looking at each Andalite, and at Hadrin. She casts a glance behind her, up at the little table where Myitt is swimming in the tub of sludge. "Uh..." Tara sucks in a breath and looks back at the others. "Look, you can't be sure it's me, yadda yadda, all that crap. But hear me out, either way. Zorish really cares for that chick in there. I mean, as ****ed up as they both are, they care about each other. Zorish wants to destroy human freedom, but he doesn't want to **** the whole planet over. And he thinks he's the key to doing that." She rolls her eyes. "Whatever, let him dream for a while. Let him have as much memory of Tamora as you can spare, but if there is a single iota of information left in his mind about the rebellion or the Mirage, we're all cooked. So don't mess it up, alright?" She sits back against her hands, not really caring that they're still bleeding lightly. "Now can he get out of my head, please?"