"My hero," is not entirely a joke, as something else has slipped off the top of the pile and fell to the ground while Gela is standing there, hanging on. The little jog is sorely appreciated. She beams as Cosima chases what's escaped down a few stairs.

What's loud enough to be heard is loud enough to comment on. "Three-ring binders?"

Gela is imagining something that you wear... three rings, on each hand, that stick to paper? "It's magic?"