It is the assent not the words that matter.  And that opens her to the pressing weight of him like a crack in a jar held under water.  There is a rush as she feels him once more.  It is a pale shadow of what she just experienced, a candle within her rather than a bonfire.<br/><br/>But even a small flame must be fed and she feels the waking of her new-found hunger even as she feels an inner warmth as well.  A lingering sense of his power flows in her, it is like that brief pulse she felt burning away the hold her pet had tried to place upon her but does not fade.<br/><br/>She can see the strange and misshaped man waiting still.  He knows what burns within her and he kneels and lowers his eyes as he waits silently for her.