Helen is human derived but largely has non human coding. This plays into her personality. She has an understanding of humanity only a true outsider then. As such she is a highly skilled actor, an exceptionally fluent in body language.
She likes messing with people, in all meanings of the word. She cares about killing strong people and protecting those she loves.
She sees people through this lens wanting to crush her friends even when she would never willingly place herself in such a situation.
↑“She uses the same body language techniques you tried to teach me.”
“Taught you,” I said. “Didn’t try. Please don’t malign my abilities. And I’ll tell you this. Those techniques? The framing of the body, posing, balance and clothing? Hers.”
“Mine,” Helen said.
“It’s what she does,” I said. “Except very natural. Spend time with her if you can. Study Helen. You can learn an awful lot, even if it’s hard to put into proper words. I studied her and figured out some tricks and techniques, but she’s a natural.” - Excerpt from Gut Feeling 17.7
↑Off to my left, Helen moved. Cartilage and bone snapped and ground together as Helen strained, a torture rack in human form. I imagined I could hear the silent scream from Helen’s victim as her arms were stretched out and to either side, like a bird. Helen’s body shifted, bones standing out in strange ways against skin or the fabric of her clothes, a biological equivalent to a spring or mechanism being set, a trigger cocked. Her hands bit deep enough into skin that I wondered if she was squeezing muscle aside to press against bone. Flesh between fingers was bulging like it might pop.
Then Helen readjusted. It was a sudden, violent movement, the twist of a constrictor snake seizing its prey all at once, contorting itself in knots in a sudden, spasmodic way. Her body could move like that, but the body of the victim that was securely in her grip couldn’t. The wet sounds and the crunch of bone and gristle against more bone and gristle seemed to go on forever.
Helen hadn’t done anything but twist and wrench, but she was still bloody as she picked herself up and off of her victim. Her bones were still in weird places, like she had a feline or a lizard’s skeleton inside a little girl’s skin, the limbs too long, the shoulders oddly skewed. She sagged under her own weight, her muscle structure not lending itself well to standing upright. Slowly, piece by piece, she pulled herself back into a more normal configuration. - Excerpt from Lamb to the Slaughter 6.8
↑“If it would help, I can drink and redistribute water across my body,” Helen said. “Change my proportions to be less stare-worthy.”
“No,” I said. “Not if you’re walking long distances.”
↑“I didn’t think that was a project which would have emergencies,” I said.
“It’s not,” Jamie said.
“There was one with me, once,” Helen said, smiling. “My first time out of the vat. I was only half as tall as I am now. I opened my eyes and wanted to give someone a hug. They shot me.” - Excerpt from Lamb to the Slaughter 6.5