"I propose a..." She paused, searching deeply for the right word. " consanguinity of sorts." Haman reached across the table to Mineva, and pinched the strings in just such a way that when she turned her fingers through the whole web it transferred easily to her hands in a new configuration.
"We are not unlike this little game, pinching and pulling one another."
Mineva hooked the threads with her pinkies, around and through, and the weave had changed hands again. "Each time, the pattern becomes different, more complex. But it is all only one thread." Haman pulled the string loose from the child's hands and let it hang off her fingers tips.
With a deft, and well practiced motion she re spun the web and the game began over again.
"My place here is becoming more and more precarious as the days go by. And it is strange that I say this, but a friend is something I cannot buy."