The fabric of Kristoph's collar brushes against his skin as He Ming undoes his tie, and he lets out a soft breath. However, it doesn't feel like fabric at all; as he said, it's just like water, rippling gently against him. It would be a curious sensation, were he more aware of himself and his surroundings, but his trance has numbed all conscious thought. The only thing that exists beyond the well is He Ming's commands.