"It happened recently when I started dreaming," she shrugs. "I dream that I was made in a lab by a scientist. I guess he added a dash of something." His fingers make her eyelids flutter closed. His fingers are more talented than most men she's entertained, and she has to breathe deeply to keep from making any sound.
She hadn't been planning on baring her soul to him, hadn't been planning on connecting with him so strongly, but now that it's happened, it's an unstoppable force. Her forehead leans against his, and she smiles sadly. "Sometimes it's the only reliable thing I have." The unspoken is that she wishes for the constant in her life to be something else.