She felt  the woman’s finger nails sinking into her stomach,  once more her cold silver droplets welled up from the tinny wounds.  She didn’t flinch it was a mere pin prick,  she had been shot, stabbed,  bit, and clawed my nails much longer my the little woman pressed against her chest.  She allowed her head to incline forward,  she inhaled deeply taking in the scent of the woman’s body accentuated by the soap.  Her slightly cool hands continued to gently run up and down the woman’s spine.  It felt right to her,  to comfort instead of kill.<br/><br/>“Mommy?”  She whispered, she had heard the word before.  Her mind raced looking for the definition,  none were located within her system.  Yet,  she remembered hearing children calling their female parent, something similar.  While the machine didn’t understand the twisted connotations of the word,  it felt wrong to her…  yet,  did she want to break the woman from her revelry.  It felt so good to hold her, to stroke her hair… to feel her breath against her breasts.   Still,  it was wrong wasn’t it?<br/><br/><br/>Elohim could feel the warm tears rolling down her breasts.  She lifted her hands, resting them on the woman’s shoulder’s and gently crooned in her ear.  “Doctor Tarrington…  I believe that you are confused.”  Almost immediately she regretted saying it, afraid the woman would slip away from her, to come to hate her.