Abida smiled as she felt the caressing of her hand, those fingers brushing across her hand giving her that connection, that faint spark of closeness. "Ana he Bek... it..." she stammered, unsure of what words in the language Sister Naser grasped would be understood. "I think you call it love, I don't know if that is correct though. Gothic linguistics is still alien to me." she spoke with a more awakened voice. She looked the curves and lines of Sister Nasers body over in the dark, where the white met the blackness of the nearly pitch black room. "Love, yes love."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>