You've been thinking about him. You'd rather not admit it, but there it is. There isn't much else to do in this cell but think.
As you count the bright points on the ceiling, you wonder if he's still anywhere at all, or if his carrier has wandered away and taken him along for the ride. You remember the short time you had together. It wasn't love, but oh, you did enjoy it. Affection is in short supply in your life aside from one impossibly difficult and complex source, and any you can find is gathered up more eagerly than you would ever willingly admit out loud.
You wonder. And you laugh, abruptly, at the clear walls of your prison. Just were just thinking that you could use a friend just about now, as if you had any. He's the closest you can think of, and it's a strange thing.
If - when - you escape this place, you ought to find him. See if he's still as fond of you with all your power stolen away, or if a god is all you were.