He dips back into Shparoi for a little while, strings together all the endearments he can remember. They'd all be completely nonsensical if he tried to translate them literally, crocus blossom and square melon and little tree frog, but he says them anyway, rambles again about how beautiful Fives is in his oldest language, drags out the syllables to match the rhythm of Fives carefully starting to stretch himself.

"I'm with you, vod'ika," he promises, "It's me touching you, and I love it, you're feeling this because of me, because I want you to feel it and that's why it's happening, keep going, just like that."