The cognition next to her twitched all too suddenly. The creature stilled — or rather, paused mid-glitch. Limbs hanging in ragdoll collapse jerked upright, marionette strings snapping back into tensionless control. Then, slowly, unnaturally, it tilted.

Its head moved in a stuttered arc, not turning — but shifting, like a corrupted file trying to remember how humans gesture curiosity. The click-clack of its many fingers quieted, curling inwards like petals drawn in by light.

And then — its entire upper frame lowered toward her, not in a bow, but in reverence. Joints unwound with soft, wet pops as tentacles emerged where arms once were, slipping from flesh like silk dragged through teeth. They shimmered with a low hum, twitching in slow, hypnotic ripples.

A tendril traced the air before her chest, trembling with restraint. It didn't touch — not yet. Instead, it circled her like an orbit, a spiral of pulsating green light. Another curled near her bruised wrist, tip flickering like a glitching cursor trying to highlight pain.

A show of concern. Or something that thinks it understands the concept.

One appendage — the thinnest — rose with a balletic, serpentine grace. It hovered inches from her face, trembling, pulsing like a vein. With sudden, insectoid stillness, it froze in place and bloomed — the neon-green split open like a sea anemone, revealing rows of soft, bioluminescent spines vibrating in a calming hum.

An offering.

Meanwhile, Akane's voice boomed from her phone. "If it's Wolf's fault, he will apologize. Not me. I am not here to clean the mess of literal adults!"