[She does look over at him, at that. It looks strange, with her empty glowing eyes, but she looks caught for a moment, vulnerable, nervy, and something else, soft and tentative in between hope and gratitude.]

No. I don't want it to be part of who I am. I always - it feels so stupid. To define yourself by, partly by negative space. By an absence. But it feels like a present thing to me. Everything about my life was shaped by being only human.

[You have more than enough identity. In spite of everything, it is terribly reassuring to hear.]

I wanted to know if I could. Use this. Or things like this. And still be myself.