Ildraniath had been quietly fuming ever since she'd been forced out of her body. Her ire wasn't aimed at Zouichi of course, but the sheer idea that she was nothing more than disembodied thought at the moment was frightening, in a way. Especially considering what was lurking out in the Warp if something were to go horribly, horribly wrong. But she was hiding that fear as best she could, considering the two of them were currently sharing a mind. It simply wouldn't do, after all, for Zouichi to realize the worry she felt. In that regard, they both had their own inner conflicts to deal with, although she was doing her best to ignore Zouichi's discomfort out of politeness.

The truth was, as her thoughts shifted back to Zouichi and this little dilemma of confessions and feelings, that she wasn't entirely show how she felt and it wasn't crystallizing any more quickly now that she thought about it. He was a companion, really the only person aboard the ship who she felt entirely comfortable speaking her mind to (which was ironic, considering he was almost a human). Even as they worked alongside one another, there was a strain of something else, something she'd felt more comfortable ignoring. It would make things complicated. It was something she didn't particularly want to admit, even to herself, but thinking about it here and now (practically forced to, in fact), it was starting to make itself known.

Zouichi, I have to say I'm in agreement with you on that. You're one of my only confidants aboard this ship and...

Well, how to say this delicately.

I think my life aboard this ship would be significantly less bearable if you weren't here.

That would work, right? She wouldn't have to drag out all of those other uncomfortable and awkward thoughts that she was trying very hard not to hink about.