"OK. We'll see how we go, and I promise I'll keep you informed."
A pause where she hesitates over the next bit, but she hopes it will help: "It's not at all the same, and I'm not saying it is. But ... I do know what it's like to have a condition that means you feel like your body isn't ... that someone's taken something fundamental about yourself away from you. And I'm really sorry. I know it's violating in a way that can be hard to describe. I just want you to know that it's important to me that, while we're keeping the organization safe, that we're not making decisions about you without you. Okay?" It's quiet and soft, not as if she's walking on eggshells but rather as if it's a situation she thinks deserves some gravity.
She thinks that's the end of it, is gathering herself to stand and leave when Cosima opens her mouth to keep talking. It makes Gela pause half out of her chair. She sits again, listening, still. Her eyebrows knit together in concern, but she doesn't ask. She'd like to know some more, but she understands what it's like to have to tell these things; another time, she might.
Cosima's steady gaze, her soft voice: it is all incredibly reassuring. Gela lets out a breath she had no idea she was holding.
"Okay," she says. "Thank you, Cosima. I'm sorry too." For what happened to her, that lead her to be so understanding.
A little smile. "Thanks. We'll talk about it sometime, if you want. But for now ... we'll sort this out. And if you need ... since not a lot of people know, if you need to talk about it sometimes." The smile grows a little rueful. "I mean, I guess or Captain Rowntree, but he's not always the most approachable guy, so."
It feels like she should offer a hand, or hug, but she's not sure either is welcome, just at present.
Gela smiles back, equally as small. The proper thing to do would be to shake Cosima's hand and thank her or give her a hug for taking this so well, but what she really wants is to get out of the room as quickly as possible before she starts to cry again. She can feel a prickling on the bridge of her nose and behind her eyes, so it isn't far off. Nodding rapidly — yes, she'd like to talk about it sometime and yes, she will come to Cosima before she goes to Rowntree — she rises back up out of her chair.
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A pause where she hesitates over the next bit, but she hopes it will help: "It's not at all the same, and I'm not saying it is. But ... I do know what it's like to have a condition that means you feel like your body isn't ... that someone's taken something fundamental about yourself away from you. And I'm really sorry. I know it's violating in a way that can be hard to describe. I just want you to know that it's important to me that, while we're keeping the organization safe, that we're not making decisions about you without you. Okay?" It's quiet and soft, not as if she's walking on eggshells but rather as if it's a situation she thinks deserves some gravity.
no subject
She thinks that's the end of it, is gathering herself to stand and leave when Cosima opens her mouth to keep talking. It makes Gela pause half out of her chair. She sits again, listening, still. Her eyebrows knit together in concern, but she doesn't ask. She'd like to know some more, but she understands what it's like to have to tell these things; another time, she might.
Cosima's steady gaze, her soft voice: it is all incredibly reassuring. Gela lets out a breath she had no idea she was holding.
"Okay," she says. "Thank you, Cosima. I'm sorry too." For what happened to her, that lead her to be so understanding.
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It feels like she should offer a hand, or hug, but she's not sure either is welcome, just at present.
places bow
"I'll be in touch."
She walks jerkily out of the room.