He raises his eyebrows at the weasel's movements, but it is - as is usually the case - far less expressive than what he's actually feeling. Because the sensation is so very deeply her, in a way that takes him back to fargone days far more acutely than any passing similarity of their current circumstances of physical recreation could. This is -

(Elidibus was the one with the duty to uplift their fellows, their lost shards, but he has done it, and it is something like this, to hold a fragment of a soul in your hands.)

"And what a strange creature you are," he says to the curl of fluff in his lap, unsure if the automatic reaction of a gentle stroke is appropriate. Only a tiny portion of how off-balance he is shows, but showing anything at all is quite telling, and he's sure she's aware of that.