[ mmmm . . . a sigh, but nothing could mask her concern. ]

What makes us who we are . . . It’s taken from us. Some are forced to change, forced to break from our derivation. Forced to, [ she gestures around them ] take measures we may not want. Knowing this could all be prevented— it sets me at unease.

[ she goes for the woman’s hand, clasping them between her’s. gloved, to hide her claws, though four clips them every day. it was no different from her ugly nails when she was alive. ]

Are you well–? You seem startled.