"Oh," you say, pleased and with an embarrassed smile. "Um. Thank you!"

The wriggler drops back to the ground with a hiss, spinning as they struggle to regain their balance. You can sympathize: even when you're sober, it's always a struggle to make your psionics work well, and you're tempted to murmur as much to Riccin, who's staring at the two of you like you're doing something strange.

But that might embarrass the poor thing, and you don't want to do that, especially not when they pick themselves up so quickly. They trot over to Riccin, stop right in front of them, and wait.

Building their strength for the bigger hop, probably. There's over two feet of distance between them. Here, at least, you can intervene without any embarrassment. You pull on Riccin's arm, pressing your free hand against it, and then bounce up until your chin can rest on their shoulder. It's a stretch, only made possible by the way they instinctively duck, but you're not going to stay for longer than an instant. "Could - would you bend down?" you ask, laughing a little. "Please?"