“I'm Hilda and I'm Damon's girlfriend, they told me where he was after the accident and I rushed to see him,” she said in one breath.

Defiantly sticking out her breasts on which her nipples were still treacherously outlined, eager to be squeeze, suck and nibble. 

“And what are you, a doctor and are you in charge of Damon? Especially since Dr. Arts takes care of him.”

 “Doctor Arts?!” Smirnoff raised an eyebrow and looked at her as if she had gone mad. “And, yes, yes, Dr. Arts, yes, exactly. I am a specialist in extrasensory and other phenomena, equilibrium and other narrowly and poorly known areas. Yes, look away from Damon.”

 She also looked and saw that the light was dimmed again, and the curtains were drawn. Even the fluttering of strong tentacles stopped. Smirnoff mumbles something as he is already too late, that we should let the patient rest. Then his ear flickered, he said he was coming and with a quick step like a fog he just slipped out of the room. 

“Ugh, it's good,” she heard the voice of Arts, “I don't like this guy at all, he's too dark. There is something primordial evil with his appearance, I can't figure it out, but his character is wrong and here you are.”

 Only now was nothing clear to her. So does artificial intelligence resonate in this way? Does he have someone he likes and someone he doesn't? Why is he dark? Did he see how excited she was and almost fainted in the presence of the dark Larry? 

“Arts, if you hadn't said No! Or so it seemed to me.” 

“Miss, I didn't say anything, I even did completely different things far outside this institution. Maybe Larry is right.” 

Good night or good morning, my love, she gently sent a thoughtful kiss in the direction of the bed, said goodbye to Arts and quietly left the room.