Hyth reaches out for the aether in the room - the flowers decorating his walls, the pillow on the couch, and crudely weaves them into a cord and collar that encircle Hades's throat. The end of the leash rests in Hyth's hand as he smiles brightly - it's a thin construct and will disappate in hours, but they don't need it to last.

"Would you be my concept, brought to heel, my dear?"