[While she holds lightly to Rebecca's hand through it, Lacus uses everything else at her disposal. Her other hand, fingertips teasing slow patterns over soft curves and flat planes, her hair that trails over tensing thighs, her voice which has always had a tight vibrato, low and pulsing with every flick of her tongue. This is a moment that human beings need, this feeling of vitality and release. This is why she wanted to build such a machine. All her feelings and purpose are focused intently on completing the moment, a building crescendo she remembers from performing. No wonder it's so difficult for the wardens to understand -- it's not something words could truly explain.]