'I won't kill you,' she tells her, and that's honestly good enough for Cosima.
She's not just going to sit idly by and allow this girl - and she does look like a girl, so bound tight and helpless in the position she's in right now - try and lap out of her cup like a savage, like a dog. She's not a dog. She's a living fucking human being.
So she makes an executive decision. The door's already locked again, and damn whoever might be watching when Cosima pushes herself out of the chair and trails along the side of the table with her own cup in her hand. There's a knock at the window, as if a warning - someone mad at her, scared for her, probably both - but she sidles onto the table edge nearer to Cass anyway, if on mildly shaky legs, and using the metal surface as a brace to move herself.
In fact, she sits right up on top of the table, setting herself cross-legged in front of Cass. It seems almost as if asserting a position of power, or it would to anyone else who didn't know better, but Cosima simply lifts the cup and blows lightly at the surface to cool it, holding it out for Cass and ready to tilt if she needs it. Embarrassing, to have to be fed or watered like an animal, she knows, but it's the most she can do for the time being.
"You don't have to trust me," she tells Cass quietly, gently, that tickle still half in her throat. This whole 'more and more constantly having to be hooked up to an oxygen tank' thing is getting old. "But at least take a drink." They're not going to poison her. She's too valuable.
After a linger, she adds, "It's not contagious. Promise."
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She's not just going to sit idly by and allow this girl - and she does look like a girl, so bound tight and helpless in the position she's in right now - try and lap out of her cup like a savage, like a dog. She's not a dog. She's a living fucking human being.
So she makes an executive decision. The door's already locked again, and damn whoever might be watching when Cosima pushes herself out of the chair and trails along the side of the table with her own cup in her hand. There's a knock at the window, as if a warning - someone mad at her, scared for her, probably both - but she sidles onto the table edge nearer to Cass anyway, if on mildly shaky legs, and using the metal surface as a brace to move herself.
In fact, she sits right up on top of the table, setting herself cross-legged in front of Cass. It seems almost as if asserting a position of power, or it would to anyone else who didn't know better, but Cosima simply lifts the cup and blows lightly at the surface to cool it, holding it out for Cass and ready to tilt if she needs it. Embarrassing, to have to be fed or watered like an animal, she knows, but it's the most she can do for the time being.
"You don't have to trust me," she tells Cass quietly, gently, that tickle still half in her throat. This whole 'more and more constantly having to be hooked up to an oxygen tank' thing is getting old. "But at least take a drink." They're not going to poison her. She's too valuable.
After a linger, she adds, "It's not contagious. Promise."