*Kalluto's mind was churning, a rudder slammed full tilt to port. It had seemed natural to him that they take turns, that everything done to him needed to be catalogued, to be done in reverse to Killua. Did that mean that it was all flotsam, or jetsam?

Without the physical stimulus, odd and muted as it all was, he found the wave of immediacy collapsed and dissolved, so he was glad not to be currently riding atop its crest.*

Well. I still don't feel like moving.