"Where the hell have you been?" Lennox hissed as he leaned over the bar toward Cosima, sliding a new tray over the finished cedar bar top before filling it with glasses. "Quinten's about to have a panic attack because you disap- What the hell are you wearing?"

Instantly, Cosima felt hot under his burning gaze, like she had all of the time in the world to explain to him what had just unraveled in the last fifteen minutes of her life, but had absolutely no desire to do so at that moment in time. Sure, Lenny was that type, the one she could talk to, but it was nor the time or the place. "The host of the party slammed into me," she responded flatly, trying to keep the eagerness out of her tone to divulge the insane clusterfuck that had happened. "So she had something that worked close enough with the uniforms. She offered." Cosima shrugged her shoulders, but could quite literally feel the heat crawling onto her cheeks, bringing with it a mild pink dusting that she knew would be impossible to hide if it flourished into a darker shade. "Can you pour a little faster? Jeez." She kept her chin tucked as she spoke, but she knew that she was busted even before he looked up at her.

"Oh-ho-ho, would you look at that?" he countered smugly. "Someone's in a big ol' hurry all of a sudden." She lifted her head in response to his words and found something she knew she would: him grinning like the little shit he was. "New clothes, red cheeks, and an inability to look me in the eye for longer than ten seconds. You've got some s'plainin' to do, missy."

"I hate you," she teased, picking up the tray and moving it to balance it on her palm. "What time is it, anyway?" Her inquiry came with a hike of her brow and a slight tip of her lips, as if to reassure him that she harbored no ill feelings toward him as her words had implied, but she was certain he was already too aware of that fact.

"Almost time to close up shop. One forty five. Jamie said shut the bar down at two and if everyone pitches in with cleanup at two fifteen, we can all be done and on our way by two forty five." Cosima used her free hand to manage a small fist pump of excitement and Lennox rolled his eyes with a bristly laugh, shooing her off with the wave of a towel.

Part of her was about to burst at the seams; she wanted to tell him what she had done, how she had been the one taking charge of a situation that had once rendered her helpless. They had spent too many nights on the roof, passing a joint back and forth between them, discussing plausibility and responsibility in life, and how bad things only truly happened if the person they happened to let them happen. There was always a way, a chance that there could be defiance. They spoke too often about accountability, about taking charge and being responsible for how good life could be, and that was what Cosima was doing. She had been wounded for far too long and had healed on her own accord. No one helped her, no one told her it was going to be okay. She'd been forced to do that alone, and she had turned out just fine. Perhaps become a little hardened to the ways of the world was just a side effect that truly wasn't that bad.

The look of Delphine's features, contorted as she sat shocked and horrified across the room had been burned into Cosima's mind; it was like a snapshot of vindication and redemption, to some degree. Cos had never really been the revenge type, and maybe that was a partial reason as to why she didn't view what she had done to Delphine as revenge. No, revenge would have been accepting her with open arms, letting her fall in love all over again, and then packing up for the east coast one bright and sunny morning. No, this wasn't about revenge- well, completely. This was about understanding. Delphine was going to understand one way or another that one did not simply get to walk back into a life the exact same way they walked out of it, and Cosima was going to make damn sure of it.


Recovery, especially such a necessarily quick one, was not an easy feat for Delphine in her given state. Truthfully, she was drunk, point blank. There was no getting around it, or the way it made her feel so hollow and sad to watch Cosima toddle off out the door, surely feeling smug and proud of herself. For a few elongated moments, the alcohol had swayed Delphine's thinking, especially the moment Cosima had taken hold of her face. Could this be reconciliation? she'd pondered briefly, but then Cosima had kissed her and nothing made sense. She was more than just drunk, she had been overly intoxicated with the reminiscent taste of the other woman's lips and every single blip of memory it brought bubbling back to the surface. It was causing her head to swim and her heart to drown. It was as if there had not been a day between them, let alone eight years worth, in those brief moments where Delphine had fallen prey to her human desire to be forgiven without having to work for it.

Quite literally, though, it was all gone in the absolute blink of an eye. It evaporated right in front of her face, and she was left feeling confused and completely tanked. The only solution? Freshen up and drink more. She got to her feet and headed for the door on slightly unsteady Jimmy Choo clad feet, but as she opened it with every intention of heading to the washroom to clean up a bit, she was halted in the threshold as Dom came around the corner.

"Whoaaa, what in the world happened to you?" he questioned as he stooped down to place the two champagne flutes he had in his hands on the ground so that he could better assess the damage - so to speak. He reached up, tucking several loose curls behind her ear before he moved down to take her by the arms, pulling her gently closer to him. He made a face as he got a whiff of the alcohol on her breath, but immediately smiled. "You're trashed. But I couldn't let you end the night without one last toast."

Delphine's brow furrowed and she looked up at him, confused. "End the night? What..." she paused, rubbing at her eyes, as if she hoped it would offer some clarity, "time is it?" As she peered back at Dom, he looked bewildered.

"Doll, it's ten til two. They just served last round. I was wondering what happened to you. Y'know, the whole, offering some random waitress your own wardrobe after you doused her in red wine thing was odd." He pursed his lips slightly, picking up the flutes and placing one in her hand. "She wasn't very nice."

But she is! She is nice! She's the nicest, the kindest, the bravest, the smartest in the entire world! Or... she was all of those things, once upon a time. Delphine choked back the words; he would ask questions she was in no state of mind to answer. "It was my fault," she returned softly, slowly migrating back into the room to sit on the edge of her bed, where once more, Dom followed. Somehow, in the dimly lit room, as she looked down into the champagne flute, the only thing she could see was the color of Cosima's eyes. It didn't make sense, it wasn't practical or possible, but she couldn't shake it. "I wasn't... I am so clumsy. I... Thought I could make it right." Her voice trembled over her words and Dominic reached for her empty hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Are you alright, darling?" he questioned, an undeniable softness and concern to his words.

"Oui, oui," she answered immediately, wiping at her face to rid her vast cheekscape of the few specks of rain that started to cure the drought, but weren't permitted the privilege. "I have just had far too much to drink," she admitted, though her gaze still lingered on the flute in her hand. "Though..." she started, glancing up at him with a tinge of a smile. "Perhaps a night cap couldn't hurt."

He let her hand slip from his and he gave her knee a reaffirming squeeze with the nod of his head, holding up his champagne flute to toast. Their glasses came together with a soft 'clink' and as she started to down the contents of the flute in one go, her weight shifted to the side until she was nestled into Dom, his arm draping over her as his eyes sparkled in amusement at her feat.

"You'll stay tonight, won't you?" she asked him in something that almost resembled a whimper, but trembled just a bit less.

"Of course, darling. Who else is going to hold your hair in a couple of hours?"


"Shhhhhhh! Shut up! It's that time of night!" Everyone had, per usual post-event shenanigans, taken their spots in a circle around Quin's living room as Cosima and Lennox sat in the center across from one another, a small folding tray propped up on an empty box between them. Cosima was doing everything in her power not to laugh as Lennox attempted to stare her down, intimidate her. He was about as intimidating as a teddy bear. Quin made one last round through the circle, holding a snapback upside down as everyone announced their bets; how much and on who and tossed their cash into the hat.

Lennox reached forward and picked up the small metal cylinder, unscrewing it to dump the aromatic leafy contents out onto the smooth surface of the tray. On either side of the pile were two cigarillos- one pineapple White Owl, per Cosima, and one blueberry Swisher, per Lennox- that were still intact. Quin moved toward the center to evenly split the weed pile between the two of them. "Alright you two, you know the rules: No splitters, and first one done gets a free quarter of... I don't even fuckin' know what it's called, but it's good shit. Ready?"

"Hope you've been practicing, Lennyboy, because if this is anywhere near a replay of last time, I should grab the mop to wipe up your tears now so I'm prepared." She was grinning from ear to ear as his eyes narrowed at her.

"You are so full of it," he grumbled under his breath. She was still grinning happily as they raised their hands to hover over the tray.

"Alright. Go!"

The room errupted into cheers and for a moment, it startled Cosima, though she knew it shouldn't have. It was like this every time they got drunk and decided to place bets on who could roll a blunt faster. Her hands, while frequently paving their own way in her surrounding space, knew exactly what to do. She grabbed hold of the cigarillo and wet it by running it along her tongue, creating a damp spot she could dig into with her nails.

She was methodical, certain as she worked, not even caring to pay attention to what Lennox was doing or how fast he was working. Her thumbnails dipped along the moistened strip of cigar, prying it gingerly apart. As she ripped it the full length, she laughed triumphantly, scooping out the guts into a plastic bag. Her head lifted to see that Lenny was still fumbling with splitting the shell, his giant sausage fingers getting in his own way. "C'mon, Lenny, gotta catch up!" she goaded him, her chin tucking back toward her chin as she set back to work. Her fingers were nimble as she picked up a few pinches of green, filling the hollowed shell. Despite all she cheers and taunting going on around them, she was completely honed in on a skill she had perfected over the years.

Evening out the accumulated pile, she moved to one end, using her thumbs to tuck in the edge of the shell while simultaneously licking the top part to keep it moist enough to stick. Her index fingers slid up the back side of the shell and her thumbs rocked along the bottom, causing it to roll in on itself. She repeated the process as she worked her way down the length of the shell, sealing it off with a final swipe of her tongue. "Done and pearled!" she exclaimed, holding it up into the air triumphantly. Lennox groaned, but kept working- truth be told, he had only been perhaps ten second behind Cosima's lead; he was getting better.

"I hate you so much," he grunted at her, but she just reached across the small space and gave his scruffy cheek a loving pat. She knew as well as he did that that phrase in particular was their form of 'I love and adore you but i would also like to give you a wedgie.'

"No you don't, now c'mon, finish up." She was still beaming as she watched him with interest, observing his technique as he sealed up his blunt and held it out for her to examine. "Perfect. Now, just work on your speed and I might be bumming pot off of you soon."

After a few heckled cries to 'blow down the damn house already!' they both grinned, and Cosima produced a Zippo, holding it out bearing a flame in between them. They both singed the ends in the dancing fire until a couple of small tendrils of smoke curled up into the air. She extinguished the lighter and slipped it back into her pocket, bringing the blunt to her lips, the thick but smooth smoke rolling seamlessly over her tongue and down to her throat. Her arm jutted out toward whoever was behind her to pass it off as a serene smile curled her lips, maintaining the capacity of her lungs, finally exhaling a moment later.

As the chatter amongst friends started to grow louder, Cosima couldn't keep herself from looking around, from taking in the faces of all of her friends, of her family. This was what she had worked for, what she succeeded in achieving. While not all of the thoughts of her encounters with Delphine from the day had entirely vacated her mind, they were slowly beginning to slip away with each passing moment. This was what she needed. She needed therapy. She needed peace. Most of all, she needed family.

The night wore on- or, rather, morning- and it had drawn to a close for Cosima and Lennox around four thirty when they decided to grab a cab together to save a bit of change. She'd taken the stairs with him- stumbling and giggling the entire time- and when he started to depart at his floor, she tugged on his sleeve. "Roof? I mean, I did just wipe the floor with your ass for a quarter. The least I can do is pack up a bowl to remedy the humiliation."

He had, with a eye-squinting grin, nodded and agreed, following her to her apartment, and then up the narrow and rickety staircase to the roof. They took their usual spots on the ledge, looking over the city splayed out before them, the way it was taking its first morning breaths, waiting patiently for the sun to kiss the horizon. She cradled the small blue and purple blown glass pipe in the palm of her hand before bringing it up to her mouth, ashing the top layer of pot as her thumb released from the carb on the side. She handed it over to him as she exhaled, her mind turning circles.

"How many times have you seen me shirtless?" she posed suddenly, though she didn't turn to look at him.

"What the hell, Cosima?!" he asked in response, laughing as the smoke expelled from his mouth and nostrils at the same time, causing him to cough into his laughter.

"I'm serious," she said in a bit of a pout, playfully yanking the bowl away from him. After another hit, she handed it back, raising a brow. "I don't mean naked. Because we both know you're not that lucky. But of all the times we've gone swimming, or worked out, or I've been drunk and taken my shirt off..."

He offered a small shrug, using the metal piece of the lighter to pack down the bowl a bit. "I don't know, I mean, I don't really keep track. What's your logic?"

"All of those times and not once, you've never asked about it." But she did, she thought to herself. After eight years, she noticed.

Lennox's brow knit together in confusion and he took his hit before turning to her, tilting his head as if to probe further.

She hesitated for a moment before she reached down and lifted up her shirt and even in the dim light of the storm light overhead, he could see it clear as day, as it had so many times before. It was a scar, almost covered by the bottom part of her bra, but it was there. His face softened and his eyes lifted up to hers. "It's your body. Your scars are your story. It's up to you to tell that story, if you ever choose to. It's not up to anyone else to determine when that is."

In that moment, staring at his big, stupid, bearded face, Cosima wanted to cry. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the lack of sleep. Whatever it might have been, she knew that there was a definite role in her emotions wavering that she could not deny, and that was Delphine.

"When I was little, like really young, I made a friend, a really good friend.. As you probably have gathered by now, growing up wasn't exactly easy for me. My parents struggled and all I wanted was to not go through what they did. I stayed out too late most nights, which got me in trouble a lot, but it was worth it not to have to be there. " Cosima had taken to looking out at the city, focusing a lot of her attention on just keeping her voice even. "My mom was a junkie and so it was just easier that way. My dad was never around; he was either at poker tables or passing out at bars most nights. The only solace I really had in that shit-strewn city was my best friend, who eventually became the love of my life." She took a long, slow drag from the bowl and passed it back to him, her jaw setting firmly.

"Eight years ago... eight years yesterday, actually, she moved away. Her dad met someone who could really do it, you know? Someone who gave them the life I'm sure he wanted for them when they left France." Cosima's tone became strangled over some of her words and as a comforting gesture, Lennox's hand instantly picked up to rub at her back, never having really seen such a side to Cosima before. "She kissed me and promised me that she'd come back. She promised me she wouldn't leave me behind." Her hands folded over each other in her lap and she felt so open and exposed. Of course she trusted Lenny with her life, but the truth was, this was unknown territory for her. She'd never even really let herself feel much over the whole thing, just because she knew that she could lose herself in it, but hearing it from her own lips? That was something she had never truly braced herself for.

"I waited. For four years, I waited, like an idiot. It took my whole world falling apart for me to wake up and realize that I was holding onto a hope that didn't exist with justification anymore." Her lip quivered and she inhaled slowly, squeezing her eyes shut. "When I was twenty, I was on my way home from classes at community college. I'd walked those roads a million and six times before. I don't even remember it, really. I heard a bunch of screaming and blaringly loud music, but then... nothing." At this, Lennox took notice to the fact that Cosima had started to visibly shake.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You don't have to..." he assured her softly, but she shook her head and dismissed his concern.

"I woke up six months later in a hospital bed. Turns out, I was walking home right in the middle of a gang fight, caught a stray bullet to the chest. Punctured and collapsed a lung and kept me in a coma for nearly half a year. After six months of therapy and finishing my Bachelor's, I got accepted for the transfer to Berkeley. And, well, you know the rest."

"Yes, of course," he agreed with a sad smile. Hearing her story, knowing why she was the way she was, it shed a whole new light on her in his eyes. "But, Cos, why are you telling me all of this?"

She smiled an impossibly sad smile and lifted her chin to look up at him. "Because for the first time in eight years, I saw her yesterday. And as much as every other part of me wants to hate her, just seeing her reminded my heart of just how much I loved her."

Lennox hugged her in closer to his side, tucking her head under his chin. "We love the ones who hurt us the most," he whispered sadly, and she hated to know just how right he was.