If you wish. That is the order of becoming one; knowing each other. Thoughts, and feelings, and desires, and fears.

What we inflict on our design which keeps us from the precipice of perfection.

[The strange hand stays up, but curves around, palm up. The purple lines thrum, a ripple of glow rolls down through the colored flesh. He does not smile exactly; it's an enigmatic partial upturn of his lips.]

It doesn't hurt. [Just for the record.] Have you participated in something like this before...?