It's none so comforting, hearing that come out of her. It's not that Cosima pities her even further or anything, it's just that it's - She can't even imagine, is the thing. She's always lived a fairly cushy life, up and until recently, what she's found out about herself and what lies she's been fed for longer than she can remember. She hasn't been locked in basements, she hasn't had the kindness beaten out of her. She hasn't been honed into a weapon, something dangerous and so not like her own self that she can't even recognize herself when she looks in a mirror anymore. Not yet, anyway.

"Nobody told me anything," she remarks lightly, propping up her chin on a fist and frowning mildly. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I've read your file. Your dad's a real treat." The last bit certainly has disdain written all over it, though she smiles as though it's not sarcasm, flat and without any teeth. He might be listening. He might even be watching.

Cass deserves something. Everybody deserves something. And this isn't something, this is - This is miserable. This is so fucked up and wrong on so many levels that she doesn't quite know how to properly comprehend, though she will for the time being. Cassandra needs her, more than she needs anybody right now. She needs help. For once, she's going to have to take it, even if she doesn't necessarily look for it.

"Do you remember Dr. Friedman?"