[ He curls, away from Archangel but unable to go far. They are Savant, and thus open to one another at all times; no matter how far he attempts to pull, he is equally pressed up against the man — bound by their same nature, horrible and intensive. Some lingering part of his paralyzed consciousness rolls against the hand that had once been touching him, before he seizes at it and tries to strangle it into submission. ]

You find me resting and think to touch me? How daring of you! You impertinent man.

[ Bitterly, he does bare his teeth. ]

— do not patronize me. Tell me what you really want.