"Ilsa, Lena's sister," she said, coming into the kitchen properly and reaching out to take his hand. It felt human, she thought as they touched. Flesh and muscle and bone, the back of his hand smooth and soft, the palm slightly warmer, her fingers running across the shallow lines there. "And you're Krishna," Ilsa said with a respectful bow of her hand (though she hadn't released his hand). "Svayam Bhagavan."