She wakes gently, her mind and body slowly pulled from her slumber by light pouring through the balcony window. A beam of sun hits her eyes and she groans, rolling from her stomach onto her back, smiling contently.
She hasn't slept this well in years.
The cot in her cell had been awful and Tony's couch isn't much better. She's used to waking several times throughout the night and when she does finally decide to pull herself out of bed, she almost always has a crick in her neck.
Not today.
The comforter she's wrapped in is soft and fluffy, as are the pillows and the mattress, and the arm strung across her torso is—
"Fuck!"
She shoots up, memories of last night quickly flooding into her mind. Delphine lay at her side, a soft smile on her features as she dozes peacefully in her usual position, on her usual side of the bed. Cosima's heart begins to slam in her chest, panic finally settling in. How is she supposed to explain this? How is she supposed to bounce back from it? She hadn't meant to stumble home with Delphine—certainly hadn't meant to fall into bed for another round with her—but here she is, bare and exposed and in her ex-girlfriend's bed like no time has passed between them.
It doesn't look like it has.
Her eyes scan the room, taking in her surroundings more completely. It had been dark last night, she had been more focused on Delphine than the apartment, but she notices now that Delphine's condo looks almost exactly the same as it did when they were dating. She can't pick out any discernible differences and she wonders if that's good or bad. Either way, her focus returns to the sleeping blonde and she wonders how she should proceed.
Does she wake Delphine?
Does she try to slip out quietly?
As she ponders the thought, her feet begin to move on autopilot; they pull her from the comfort of Delphine's bed and carry her to the kitchen. She reaches into a familiar cupboard, grabs a familiar glass, swings open the familiar door to the refrigerator and pours herself a glass of filtered water. It isn't until she's downed nearly the whole glass and her thirst is quenched that she realizes her folly.
"Fuck!"
She sets the glass down on the counter.
How can she stand here like she has a thousand times before, drinking water so casually as she did every morning when she'd stay over? She knows this is wrong, but her body hasn't caught up with what her brain already knows.
It's all muscle memory.
She moves through this space habitually. They even fuck habitually. Perhaps that's how she was able to topple into bed with the French woman so easily in the first place; even if she did just want to accept Delphine's invitation and simply talk, as soon as she stepped through that door, their bodies fell back into old patterns before either of them could process what was truly happening.
"Fuck," she groans.
She needs to get out of here. So long as she stays here, she'll never be able to think straight. She wanders around the apartment, searching for her dress. She finds it discarded in the living room near the sofa.
"Where the fuck are my—?"
Somewhere in the bathroom of the club, she suddenly remembers.
She forgets about her underwear, heads back into the bedroom to find another piece of the puzzle—her bra. She moves as stealthily as possible so as not to disturb the sleeping woman; she doesn't trust herself to stay in control if they're both conscious in this far-too-familiar space. She knows the chance of falling into bed again is far too real, so she dresses in silence, turning back to steal wistful looks at the sleeping blonde every so often.
Now fully-dressed, she attempts to smooth her dress out to hide the evidence of last night's endeavours, but her phone begins to ring loudly and she feels her panic bubble to the surface yet again as she attempts to locate it. She races over to the nightstand and quickly snatches it, watching Delphine mumble something incoherent and roll over in her sleep.
She takes the phone across the bedroom and steps into the ensuite bathroom, closing the door behind her.
"Fucking finally!" Sarah exclaims the second she answers the call "I've been calling you all morning, yeah? Called you four times last night. Was worried you got nabbed or something."
She checks her phone to see that Sarah did, in fact, call her numerous times. She knows without even looking at the time stamps that she missed those calls because she was in bed with Delphine at the time, probably with her face buried between her ex-girlfriend's legs.
"No, I-I'm fine," she stammers, trying to regain her bearings.
She inspects herself in the mirror.
She can't deny how pathetic she looks, panic written in her eyes and all over her face. Her makeup is smudged, her neck marred with constellations of bright purple teethmarks. Sarah begins to laugh and it's as if she can see through her phone, observing Cosima in her current state.
"What? What's so funny?" Cosima probes.
"Looks like I owe Fee twenty bucks."
"Huh?"
She tilts her head, inspecting the hickeys more closely in the mirror and frowning.
"He said you probably went home with that girl from the bar. I said you didn't have it in you."
"What?"
What girl?
She tries to sort through the haze of last night until she finally settles on Misty. She had completely forgotten about her until now, about the number she has saved in her phone that she'll most likely never call.
"So, how was she?"
Her head drops.
Is she supposed to lie to Sarah—her best friend? She's a terrible liar. But she can't really tell her the truth either, otherwise her thieving friend will jump down her throat and tear into her with no mercy or regard.
"Nothing happened, Sarah," she sighs.
Sarah laughs again.
"Oh, come on. I know you got laid. I can hear it in your voice, Cos."
Well, if there's no denying it…
"Fine. Yes. I did," she says lowly, trying to keep their conversation quiet so that she won't rouse Delphine from slumber.
"Why are you whispering?" Sarah asks. "Are you—oh shit, you're still there, aren't you?"
"Yes," Cosima answers, not even trying to hide her annoyance. "Now if you don't mind…"
"No worries. I won't keep you. Get back to shagging."
She nearly chokes on Sarah's words.
"No!" she exclaims, forgetting about all about Delphine for a split second. "No more shagging!"
"What's wrong?"
She hears a noise from the bedroom and she wonders if Delphine is awake now, if the jig is up. Her panic rises yet again and she frantically searches around the bathroom for some sort of escape.
"I have to get out of here," she says.
"Alright. You want me to come and get you?" Sarah offers.
"No, no, no!" she whispers harshly. "I'll… I'll come to you."
"Fine. Wanna meet at the coffee house in an hour? I want breakfast and details."
"Okay. Sure. See you soon."
She quickly hangs up, taking a moment to compose herself. She takes a deep breath before making her way back out into the bedroom. Sure enough, Delphine is awake; she lay sprawled in bed like a cat beneath the sun's rays, her face dewy and smile warm.
"Mmmm," she moans, stretching her arms even higher until her spine is drawn taut and her breasts are jutting out freely for Cosima to admire. "Good morning."
Cosima stops dead in her tracks, her eyes uncertain of where to settle—though she knows where they want to settle.
"Come back to bed. I'll make us breakfast," Delphine purrs.
Cosima finally averts her eyes, finding the floor.
"I have to go. I have plans," she answers.
"This early?" Delphine challenges.
"It's almost noon."
Delphine sits up, reaching over to the night stand on her side of the bed to grab her cell phone. She takes note of the time.
"It is," she remarks. "I guess the night escaped us."
Cosima's eyes flutter at the comment and Delphine's smile grows even wider, her words having their intended effect.
"Cancel. Stay in bed with me," she suggests. "We can have that talk."
"No, we can't."
Delphine shifts, her smile immediately disappearing. She inspects Cosima a little more closely from a safe distance.
"What's wrong?"
Cosima doesn't answer, merely searches around the room for her boots.
"Are you still upset with me?" Delphine asks, head cocked to the side.
"I'm… I'm not anything," Cosima shrugs.
She locates one of her boots and bends over to collect it, though she sees no sign of its mate. She tries to ignore Delphine and her questions as she continues her search, but Delphine swings her legs over the edge of the bed and approaches her.
"You came home with me last night. You didn't have to, but you did," she says matter-of-factly, emphasizing Cosima's role in all of this. "And I wanted to talk— you were the one who pulled me into bed… not that I'm complaining."
Cosima sighs, rubbing the back of her neck.
"I had a moment of weakness. It won't happen again," she promises.
Delphine's frown becomes more pronounced. Gone is the dewiness of her blissful sleep, replaced by a sour stomach.
"Don't I get a say in any of this?"
"No," Cosima deadpans.
Delphine folds her arms over her chest, both an angry and defensive gesture. She certainly hadn't expected the morning to unfold in such a way and she follows Cosima back out into the living room as the brunette finally locates her other boot.
"What am I to you?" she asks the shorter woman.
Cosima stops what she's doing and looks Delphine dead in the eye.
"I could ask you the same thing."
Delphine shakes her head.
"Don't do this. Don't be stubborn," she warns.
She can't go through this again.
She's done with the childish games, with Cosima's pride and petulance. She knows the ex-con is wounded deeply—that she's responsible for those wounds—but Cosima was always guarded and dismissive when she felt her pride was in jeopardy. Even before everything fell apart, she remembers Cosima being unable to have an actual argument about much of anything when it came to their relationship; they didn't argue often, but every time they did, Cosima would shout and storm off (or demand that she leave) and then avoid Delphine and the problem altogether until Delphine ultimately bent to her will and appeased her. Cosima was years ahead of her peers on an intellectual level, but struck Delphine even way back then as someone who was emotionally stunted.
Perhaps that's why they meshed so well together.
"You know what you are to me," Delphine tells her. "I think I've made that clear."
"You know what? You really haven't."
Cosima jams her feet into her boots, in a hurry to put as much distance between them as possible.
"The only thing you've made clear is that the fucking whiplash you're giving me isn't going to go away anytime soon."
She knows enough by now to know that Delphine's words and actions don't always line up. In fact, they almost never do and the constant back and forth—the constant state of trying to keep track of all of it—has her twisted and contorted in such a way that she can barely breathe anymore.
"Then stay," Delphine suggests. "Let's talk about it."
Cosima sighs, averting her gaze again.
"I have to go."
Brunch with Sarah goes better than expected.
She had been nervous that Sarah would be able to deduce that she had gone home with Delphine, that she would somehow be able to smell her on her skin, but then Sarah never even saw Delphine at the club and had no reason to suspect any sort of involvement at all. The punk was quick to slide off her back and let her carry on with her business as she devoured a stack of pancakes to nurse the guilt she felt in the pit of her stomach that she tried to play off as a hangover.
She had dragged herself back to her cousin's house and had to deal with a prying Tony as she emerged from the shower with hickeys and claw marks down her back. She was able to shrug him off, as well, and before he could ask too many questions she ventured off to the bar to work her next shift.
She mindlessly fills two pint glasses and slides them across the bar to the two waiting men, her thoughts far away with Delphine.
Maybe she is being unfair.
No.
She doesn't owe Delphine a goddamn thing. She doesn't have to give her any sort of explanation and she certainly doesn't have to wait for one herself… but does that mean she doesn't want one?
Forget about Delphine—she's giving herself whiplash.
One minute she thinks she wants to sit and actually have their long overdue conversation, but then the next she comes to the conclusion that anything Delphine says is irrelevant, that there aren't any words that can justify her actions or fix what's happened between them.
A part of her wants a solution to her problem, but then a much larger part—the part that seems to win out—is scared of what that solution might look like. Does it mean a reconciliation? Or a definite end to whatever they had or might have now?
What does she want it to mean?
Her indecisiveness terrifies her, cripples her; she just doesn't want to be made a fool again.
"Gin and tonic—double lime."
She raises her eyes from the bar and freezes when she sees Delphine standing before her, the blonde watching her with a curious expression. She's trapped, unable to run for cover or fully engage. Instead her eyes dart around the bar to locate Bobby and the second the other woman notices what's going, she comes hurrying over.
"Do you really gotta do this?" Bobby asks, clearly exasperated.
Delphine shrugs.
"I'm not doing anything."
"You know, I may be her boss, but I'm not gonna make her serve you—that's just an asshole move."
The second the words leave Bobby's mouth and Cosima has the confirmation she needs, she storms away and retreats behind the safety of a swinging door marked "employees only." Delphine has half a mind to follow after her but Bobby stops her, reaching out to gently grab her by the arm and hold her in place.
"You're gonna make this way worse, you know."
"What am I supposed to do? She refuses to talk to me."
Bobby sighs, getting to work on Delphine's drink.
"You cut her deep. This is gonna take a lot of time and a lot more finesse," Bobby tells her. "You can't keep playing your same bullshit games—I thought you figured that out last night?"
She had caught Delphine with her guard down and what she found had surprised her; not the villain Sarah had spent years making her out to be or the temptress she remembers always pulling Cosima away at every opportunity, but a simple woman—flawed and vulnerable and good-intentioned despite the mess which seemed to cling to her like a dark shroud.
"It's… it's hard," Delphine admits. "I want things to be different—I really do—but we just… we fall back into each other—into this pattern. It's so hard to shake it off."
Delphine stutters and shakes as she tries to explain it—this feeling she's spent the last five years trying to put a name to. She's no closer to a title, but her vulnerability shines through again in a rare moment.
"Wait a fucking second," Bobby begins, finishing the drink and placing two limes along the rim of the glass. "Did… did you two hook up last night?"
Delphine answers by reaching across the bar, grabbing her drink and taking a large swig.
"Holy shit," Bobby expels. "You two really are a fucking disaster."
She disappears a moment later, leaving Delphine alone with her drink. The blonde's eyes remain fixed on the door marked "employee's only" and a few minutes later Cosima reemerges with a different air about her.
"I'm on my break," she mutters.
Delphine blinks in confusion and when Cosima gestures for the blonde to follow her, she trails behind without another word. She's led out into the alley again—the same alley where they had their first conversation in years. Cosima reaches into her bra and retrieves a joint, promptly lighting up.
"Why are you here again?" she asks Delphine.
"Do I really need a reason to see you?"
"Yes."
Delphine sighs.
"I just want to talk."
Cosima takes a deep breath, inhaling as much smoke as her lungs will allow. Despite the gesture, her body is tense. She narrows her eyes at the blonde, searching for some sort of ulterior motive that may be lurking beneath the surface.
"Would you stop saying that? You sound like a broken record," she mutters.
Delphine tries to keep her frustration under wraps though Cosima's words gnaw at her and her lips twitch downward into a frown.
"Well, maybe if you talked to me, I'd stop asking."
They both stop.
Cosima exhales a large cloud of smoke and immediately hits the joint again, hoping that the weed will relax her and give her the chill she needs to finally deal with Delphine—to have this conversation for the first and last time.
"Last night was a mistake."
Delphine shakes her head in disagreement.
"It didn't feel like a mistake to me."
"Well, it was," Cosima reiterates. "And it can't happen again."
She exhales again, watching the smoke quickly travel upward towards the sky before dispersing into nothingness.
"Why not?"
"Because I—I—"
She draws her eyes back to her ex-girlfriend and finds herself lost in the furrow of Delphine's brow—in the way she subtly (and not-so-subtly at the very same time) draws her lower lip between her front teeth, anxiously chewing out of habit. She can still feel the burn of those lips against her own, like a phantom itch on a limb that's been long lost. She finds herself mirroring Delphine, her own teeth digging into her lower lip as she ponders her next words carefully.
"Because I don't know how I feel about you and I'm not starting down this road again until I do."
She takes another toke of her joint, her breath shaky this time as she inhales and holds until she feels the burn, waiting for Delphine to respond.
"Okay."
She coughs, choking on a mixture of Delphine's answer and the thick smoke.
"Okay?"
Delphine shrugs.
"That's… fair."
Cosima flicks the joint, unable to conceal her surprise.
"I don't want to be with you if it's not what you want, Cosima," Delphine tries to explain.
Cosima feels her anger returning to her despite the high that's beginning to travel through her body, tickling her extremities and lightly scratching at her brain. Her anger towards the blonde has always been pointed and it's enough to keep her sober in the moment.
"Stop that," she snaps.
Delphine cocks her head.
"Stop what?"
"Trying to be the good guy—spinning things around so I'm the villain," Cosima answers.
Delphine releases a weary sigh.
"That's not what I'm doing at all."
"You're trying to make me feel like shit," Cosima tells her. "It isn't gonna work."
Delphine runs a hand through her mane and tries her hardest to maintain the weak grip she's managed to keep on her patience.
"I'm not trying to do anything, Cosima," she tells the cheeky brunette. "I'm just trying to understand what you want—what I can do to help."
Her eyes seem to grow wider and deeper with her words like a puppy seeking praise and acceptance from its owner. Cosima knows the look well—has fallen victim to it in the past—and she plants her feet to stand her ground.
"Well, you could start by not looking at me like that."
Delphine sighs again, more heavily this time.
"Fine. We don't have to talk about our relationship."
Cosima smirks, delighting in her small victory. She expects Delphine to go storming off since she can't imagine they have anything further to discuss, but Delphine makes no attempt to move. Instead she resumes her usual pokerface, catching Cosima slightly off guard.
"Well, if there's nothing else—"
"I didn't say that," Delphine interjects.
"What else is there for us to talk about?" Cosima counters. "The only thing we've ever had in common is each other."
"That's not true."
Delphine pauses, taking a steadying breath as Cosima regards her carefully.
"I—I spoke to Leekie," she says. "I met with him just before I came here, actually."
The mere utterance of the man's name is enough to make Cosima's skin crawl and the tone of their conversation suddenly becomes much more strained, if possible.
"Why the hell do I care?"
"We… we were talking—about you," Delphine answers. "About having you come back."
Cosima freezes, completely stunned. Delphine's words are sharp slap to her face and she's reeling from the blow, trying to find her footing.
"Excuse me?"
As far as she's concerned, Aldous Leekie is the one person whom may actually be more responsible than Delphine for her current predicament; the man had manipulated them both, but it often drove her crazy to see how easily he had managed to wrap her bright and brilliant girlfriend around his finger.
Sometimes it's easier for her to write Delphine as the villain, to ignore the fact that the blonde was clearly far younger and more impressionable than she ever realized. Back then, Delphine was always so large to her—the greatest force she had ever come across in her life. She was never able to understand how Delphine could so easily and so readily shrink herself down to fit beneath his dirty thumb and it infuriates her beyond all belief to see that even after five years, nothing has changed—Delphine is still willing to dim her own light so that Aldous-fucking-Leekie can shine a little brighter.
"Just hear me out, okay?"
"You're out of your fucking mind!" Cosima spits.
Before she even has a chance to withdraw Delphine is reaching for her hand, holding her still.
"I'm on the verge, Cosima. On the verge of having everything," she says. "After this next job, everything will be different—I'll be the one calling all the shots."
Delphine releases her and even though her brain screams for her to leave as soon as possible, Cosima remains still. Her eyes rake over the blonde again and she's completely astounded by the woman standing before her; there's a part of Delphine that is almost unrecognizable to her now and yet at the same time, there's no doubt in her mind that woman in front of her is the same girl she met at that pool table so many years ago. She recognizes the fire—the ambition—but she's not so sure what's fuelling it anymore.
"What I'm trying to say is that I want you with me. I want you right there next to me, just like we always planned. Remember?" Delphine tries, her voice taking a softer tone.
She remembers.
She remembers all of the promises—that once they had enough, they'd take off running. They'd take what they need and start a new life for themselves—a life where they could be anyone or anything they wanted.
Only it was never enough.
As time went on, as Delphine became more entangled in Leekie's business, she always seemed to need more.
Things had never changed for Cosima, though.
All she ever really needed was Delphine.
"Yeah. I remember," she says, her voice low and almost defeated. "I remember you blowing that plan to shit when you left me to rot in prison."
There was a time when she thought she knew exactly what their future would look like, but now she can't even begin to imagine what a future for the two of them would look like or if such a thing is even possible.
"I'm here now. We're here again—together," Delphine utters, her dewy eyes searching Cosima's and trying to reestablish a connection. "That has to mean something."
The air seems the become thicker, the alleyway twists and bends and narrows until it's closing in on the two of them. Cosima feels the lightheadedness settle in and she can't be certain if it's the joint or the deluge of everything Delphine has dumped on her. She tries to keep her head above the water but she's caught in a riptide and finds it increasingly difficult stay afloat.
"It means that I'm a complete idiot."
"Cosima, please—"
"I'm not interested in whatever bullshit lie you're selling this time."
"It's not a lie!" Delphine cries out, her passion getting the better of her. "We can do this! When I'm in charge, I'll be able to take care of you! I couldn't before, but I won't fuck it up again!"
Cosima scoffs
"We can still have it all," Delphine continues to push. "Just one last job—one more push and then it's over for good—I swear!"
"One last job?" Cosima seethes. "Like I haven't heard that before."
A flash of rage shoots through her and she's pushing closer in an uncharacteristic display of aggression, invading Delphine's space completely until her face is mere inches away.
"There is no "one last job," Delphine—not for you. You don't know when to quit."
"St. Barts."
Cosima arches a curious eyebrow as she stares at the slender blonde sprawled out in bed from over the rim of her glass, taking a few greedy gulps of water to remedy her morning dry mouth. Once she's drained the contents completely, she sets the empty glass on the nightstand.
"Hm?"
"How do you feel about St. Barts?" Delphine rephrases, sitting up straight so that she's leaning back against the headboard, the comforter pooled at her waist.
Cosima shrugs, her eyes admiring the sight of her topless girlfriend.
"Never been."
A smile stretches across Delphine's face—one that grows even wider when Cosima finally rejoins her in bed, straddling the French girl's lap.
"We should go," Delphine suggests, her fingers lazily tracing the jut of Cosima's hipbone.
"Like, on vacation?"
A vacation does sound nice. She wouldn't mind escaping the thick of winter or the copious amounts of schoolwork she has piling up; she's usually better about staying on top of her studies, but Delphine has been a far-too-tempting distraction.
"No," Delphine shakes her head. "We should just… go."
Cosima cocks her head, inspecting her girlfriend more closely. Delphine's gaze seems distant, as if her thoughts are already in St. Barts and waiting for them both to catch up. Even though she's always been a mystery, Cosima can't help but feel like there's something especially elusive and wistful about Delphine's words.
"When?" she plays along.
Delphine pauses for a second to consider.
"Now."
Cosima laughs.
"We can't go now."
Delphine looks up at the brunette, her smile returning.
"Why not?"
Cosima's laughter only builds. There are moments when Delphine feels like the most complex individual she's ever met, but then there are times when she's ripe with simplicity—times when black is black and white is white, when she simply exists without all of her baggage or contradiction.
"I have school," Cosima offers her excuse.
Delphine leans forward slightly, her lips dancing at the hollow of Cosima's throat.
"You don't need school. Let's go together—just you and me."
Cosima shakes her head, her hands finding Delphine's shoulders. She steadies herself, trying not to giggle as Delphine's lips work their way from her throat to her jawline to that sensitive spot just below her ear.
"I do need school if I want to be a scientist someday," she argues.
Delphine nips gently at her lobe.
"You don't need any of that," she presses.
Cosima considers it.
It would be so easy to just drop everything and run away with the very persuasive blonde, never looking back. It would be so easy to forget about all of her responsibilities, all of the expectations and just spend the rest of her days fucking on the beach. As tempting as the prospect is, she knows she'll never forgive herself if she walks away from everything now without first knowing what she's fully capable of; if she gave up school, her future career and all of her friends, she knows deep down that there's a part of her that will not only resent herself for the decision, but Delphine as well.
She doesn't want that.
She can't imagine looking at Delphine with anything other than lust and adoration—she doesn't want to wake up one day and find herself resenting her for stealing her future and trapping her in a co-dependent situation.
She hopes they do make it to St. Barts one day—but on her own terms.
"Maybe," Cosima utters. "But I still want to do it—for me. It's important."
Delphine stops, pulling her mouth away from Cosima's ear. She looks up at Cosima again, searching her gaze.
"Okay," she nods, smiling. "When you're done school, then."
Cosima beams
"You might be waiting a little while," she retorts, leaning down to press her lips to Delphine's.
"That's fine."
They kiss slowly, methodically, losing themselves in the sensation of each other's mouths. Cosima gently presses Delphine down into a pile of pillows, the two of them blissfully sinking into their detente.
"You're just looking for an excuse to get me into a bikini, aren't you?" Cosima breaks their kiss to ask.
"Maybe."
They make love one more time before Cosima is able to pull herself away, determined to put in at least of few hours at the library this afternoon. She dresses leisurely, Delphine's eyes following her as she makes her way across the room to retrieve her previously discarded clothes.
"Why St. Barts?" Cosima breaks the silence, tugging her tights on over her legs.
"It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen," Delphine answers.
"So you've been?" she asks, glancing back at the European.
"Yes," Delphine nods. "Years ago, with my father."
"Damn. That must be nice," Cosima mutters, pulling her skirt on next. "The only vacations my dad ever took me on involved camping. I would have much preferred to chill on a beach in the Caribbean."
"Well, at least your father made the effort to do something with you," Delphine counters. "Every time he's ever taken me somewhere, he's ditched me at the resort to tend to his business."
Cosima is easily able to detect the trace amounts of disdain in her girlfriend's voice and her curiosity gets the better of her.
"Yeah, but isn't he paying for all of this?" she asks, gesturing to the luxurious condo. "Maybe he works so hard so he can spoil you."
Delphine frowns.
"That's not it."
Cosima stops dressing, intrigued by the shift in Delphine's demeanour. In the months that they've been dating, Delphine has rarely mentioned her parents. The only thing she really knows for sure is that Delphine's mother died of cancer when she was fourteen, and that her father is some sort of businessman who travels a lot for work, which has made him quite distant although very wealthy.
"He feels guilty—that's why he tries to compensate," Delphine comments. "It used to make me so angry."
Cosima could never relate to the strained family life Delphine or Sarah have; her mother and father were always loving and supportive. She was always an independent child and never relied on them for much, but she always knew they were present if she needed them. Even in adulthood, they don't speak as often since she's moved away from home, but she knows that if she picks up the phone and dials, there will always be someone to answer who's more than happy to hear her voice.
"If it bothers you so much, why take his money? You don't have to."
Delphine's frown morphs into a scowl and instead of lashing out at Cosima in anger like one might expect, she becomes unsettlingly quiet, retreating into herself. Cosima quickly senses that she's crossed a line and forgets about dressing altogether, slowly walking over to the bed to comfort her girlfriend.
"Hey, come on. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to piss you off," she says softly, crawling over the sheets and reaching for Delphine.
"It doesn't matter," Delphine mutters, shrugging off Cosima's touch. "Pretty soon, I'll never need to rely on him again."
She throws her feet over the edge of the bed, quickly rising and leaving Cosima behind in her messy sheets. She saunters over to her closet and snatches a silk kimono to wrap herself in.
"Is that right?"
Delphine turns back around to face Cosima.
"Why do you think I'm doing all of this?" she asks, a hint of exasperation to her voice. "Once I have real money of my own—real power—I'll never have to deal with him again."
Cosima frowns.
Delphine, sensing her displeasure, shifts focus.
"Once I have real power… I'll be able to spoil you."
She comes back over to the bed, sliding in and wrapping her arms around Cosima in a tight hug. She nuzzles Cosima's face, eliciting a smile and a blissful sigh from the smaller girl.
"You know, you don't need lots of money and power to break away from your dad," Cosima mentions as Delphine rests her head upon her chest. "If he makes you so angry, just walk away."
Delphine sighs.
She reaches for Cosima's hand, their fingers dancing together.
"It's not that simple," the blonde remarks.
"Sure it is."
Cosima shifts, twisting her body so that they're face-to-face.
"You know… you're stronger than you think."
Delphine's brow furrows.
"Excuse me?" she counters, slightly offended but mostly confused.
Cosima sits up.
"I only mean—well, sometimes it just feels like you sort of—I don't know—like, intentionally…shrink yourself?" she grapples at the words. "So that you can fit wherever you need to?"
"That's called "adaptation," Miss Evolutionist," Delphine retorts, sitting up as well.
"No, it isn't."
Delphine shoots her a quizzical glance and Cosima's demeanour becomes heavier, more serious.
"You shouldn't have to make yourself smaller. You should never have to be… less."