It's cool! I've been swamped as well. :)
Amy nodded. "We call them souls too," she said after a moment's though. "It's the. . .thing that makes you you."

She was sure there were more artistic and pretty ways that people put it, but she had never been given over to poetry and semantics. With the exception of the encounter with Vincent VanGogh, which had been something else entirely.

Amy shifted around to where she was sitting more comfortably. She smiled again at Pan. "So he's your. . ." Amy couldn't think of the word. "I don't have a good word for it, but I do understand what you mean," she said after a moment.