"Espresso for… Her Majesty Doctor Cormier?"

"That's mine! Thanks, uh…Rebecca," I throw a couple dollars in the tip jar and take the cup from a very confused barista.

"Sure. Have a good day, doctor…" the rest of her sentence is cut off and left inside the café as the door slams shut behind me. Why Dr. Cormier insists on getting a plain black espresso from a douche-ish café instead of using the espresso machine at the office is beyond me. I stole a sip of her espresso before and couldn't even tell the difference. Same deathly-bitter, pure-caffeine crap. Akin to her personality. I tried to switch her morning beverage out for the office espresso when I first started, but it didn't exactly work out.

"Here's your espresso, boss lady," I present the alternate version of her drink. She takes it without even looking up at me, has a sip, and sets it down on her desk. I knew she wouldn't be able to tell. I sit down at my desk, a few meters from hers, and start to log into my computer.

"Cosima," I hear my name called in the same condescending tone she always uses. "I don't remember asking for a cup of hot water. Am I mistaken?" Her fingers never stop typing. As though being an asshole to me is just second nature.

"Dude, how could you even tell?" I whine at her, "We use the same espresso machine – same brand and everything," I get up to take the trick cup away and give her the espresso I bought on the way to work just in case something like this happened. I even asked for an extra cup while I was there to make it convincing. I put less effort into getting through college than I did for this stupid coffee stunt. Really, she should be flattered.

"I may have had a harder time tasting the difference if you hadn't filled this with plain coffee instead of espresso". She hands me the drink and takes the other from my hand. I pop open the lid to confirm her accusation.

I never got the nerve to try again. I think about it every time I pass the stupid espresso machine on the way to her office, like I am now, but I always resist the urge.

"You're late," she says quietly, but assertively, from her desk. She used to be a little more bothered by it and occasionally lecture me, but now she just sighs at my incompetence.

"But I'm consistent," I say with a smile as I hand her the beverage. When she says nothing in return, I turn to go to my desk.

She sits right by her office door, inside and to the left, across from the window, and I'm stationed by the door to filter any visitors. There's technically a door between my desk and hers, a large door made with dark-shaded glass, but I've always kept it open so that the sunlight isn't tinted grey. It's fine because, where she sits, you can't see her from the door with the huge useless bookcase adjacent to her desk. I can just tell people she's out of the office. Nobody really wants to visit her anyway; if somebody shows up, it's either because they have no other choice, or because somebody else made them go in their place.

She's not necessarily evil, just cold and always looks like she's annoyed with your presence. She probably is. I've gotten used to it and it only makes it more fun to bother her. She doesn't get worked up too easily, but I find success in every raise of her voice and every glare of death she gives me. I feel like I've won a battle in our continuous war of dispositions.

"Sometimes I wonder why you applied to work at Dyad instead of following your obvious career path as a comedian". She comments as I step into her office to use the printer. I pluck the warm pages out of the tray and smile at her when I turn around. She's holding the cup up, displaying the title scribbled on the side.

"Ah, she wonders about me," I say dreamily as I return to my desk. I can't see her, but I can sense the eye roll that's happening on the other side of that bookcase. I've learned that the best way to shut her up is by flirting. She won't engage, even if it's completely obvious I'm being sarcastic. It also happens to be one of the best ways to irritate her. I try to not do it too often so that she doesn't get used to it.

"Please don't order my coffee under names you don't call me," she says just loud enough for me to hear. I called her Delphine a couple days into being her assistant, just joking around, and I thought she was going to strangle me. She prefers Dr. Cormier.

"As you wish, Your Majesty".

After the third meeting in a row, following Dr. Cormier around, taking notes, and making absolutely no noise, my muscles and mental functioning are starting to give in. I know she's aware of how fed up I am with this, and I think that's why she insists I do it. Maybe she is evil.

I am especially fed up with this kind of work because it's not even what I applied for. I applied for an internship in the labs. I have a goddamn degree, man. But no, I got talked into working with her. I would rather work with Dr. Leekie, the guy that hired me. Seemed like a pretty stand-up dude. Although, he was the one who convinced me to work with Dr. Cormier.

"Would you be willing to participate in revolutionary, but controversial projects that require–"

"Sorry to interrupt! But could I borrow this young lady for a moment?" A tall, slim man peaks through the office door, halting my interview.

"Oh, uh…sure," my interviewer stutters, apparently just as caught off-guard as I am.

"Good, come with me, uh…"

I jump up and stick my hand out for him to shake, "Cosima Niehaus, PhD in Evolutionary Development Biology, eager to work!"

The guy shakes my hand and tries to hide his taken aback reaction to my introduction. I get that look a lot. "Eager is exactly what I'm looking for. Eager and willing…My name is Dr. Aldous Leekie, but please call me Aldous." He smiles and gestures down the hall for me to follow. "So, Dr. Niehaus…"

"Cosima, please. I'm proud of my status and everything, but I'm not too fond of my last name," I interrupt. He smiles at me like one would smile at a child who said a big kid thing. It's weird, but not fully creepy.

"Dr. Cosima?" He suggests.

"God no, I'm not a douche," I scoff. "Oh shit, sorry…language…professional. Jeez I'm doing great so far," I smack my palm to my forehead.

"Don't worry too much about that, Cosima. I'm fairly laid back. However, not everyone in this building is. Have a seat," he walks into a dimly lit office with what looks like two empty labs on either side, all enclosed by glass walls. His office is average-sized, but the two other rooms make it look huge. He closes the glass door behind me. I take the seat in front of the desk and he sits on the other side.

"So, why exactly did you want to borrow me?" I finally ask the lingering question.

"Well Cosima, there are a lot of students and graduates applying for an internship, and we only have several openings," I nod, slightly confused. "But I like you – you're unique and have a lively personality. I'd like to have you as an intern, but the people who hire the interns might not see things like I do. They go for the quiet, obedient type".

"Yeah, I can't say those things really describe me accurately…" I cross my legs, feeling pretty disappointed that I didn't even get to finish my interview before I was rejected.

"The good news is, I'd like to make a deal with you," I cock my head. "Our CFO, who is also our interim Department Director for the time being, is in need of an assistant. Her most recent assistant quit…as did her last three".

"Well, she sounds lovely so far," I comment sarcastically.

"Yes, well, Dr. Cormier isn't the easiest person to work with. She is one of those employees that might not take your energy as something positive, like I see it. But I think your energy might just be the thing that could get you through working with her". He smiles nervously and I can tell he's really trying to sell me on this.

"What's the deal exactly?"

"Oh right! Well, she will only be interim Department Director for another seven or eight months. The woman we hired for that position will be moving here to take the job and Dr. Cormier will go back to just being our CFO. But for now, she does need an assistant. Cosima, if you could work for her, just until we get our Department Director, I will guarantee you a permanent position in the labs. Skip the internship. What do you think?" He blurts everything out so fast that I can barely understand him.

It's pretty much a no-brainer, but what if I can't make it the whole seven or eight months? What could be so bad that four people quit? I've worked around shitty people before, there's no reason I wouldn't be able to handle this lady. Maybe her other assistants were just too intolerant? She can't be that bad…

"Hey Cos, could you tell your boss that Mr. Mitchell needs to talk to her when she gets the chance?" Shay, Mr. Mitchell's assistant, always prefers to walk to my desk to deliver messages instead of calling. She's cute. Definitely a talker.

"Of course, gorgeous. So, should we make out in her office while she's gone, or go find a utility closet?" She knows I'm kidding, but I get the feeling that she would take me up on any offer. She's got that desperate, but still chill look in her eyes.

"Oh, I don't know. If their meeting is long enough, I don't see why we can't just go back to your place". She sits on the edge of my desk and crosses her arms, challenging me. It's not that I wouldn't take her home, I just prefer to be with someone for more than their physical attributes – and I haven't seen much more than physical attributes that I would consider appealing from her.

Before I can respond, we both hear a moderately loud closing and locking of a door. Dr. Cormier will typically close her office door when she's out, but rarely locks it. I don't have a key and sometimes she needs me to fetch something from her desk. She gives me a look that tells me she doesn't care how empty these offers may be, she will not tolerate her office being defiled. Shay and I are both silent until we can't hear the clacking of her heels anymore.

"Jeez, how do you work with her?" Shay whispers, even though Dr. Cormier is well out of earshot.

"Oh, when nobody is around, we laugh and sing together. It's a great working relationship. I call her poo bear, and she calls me sugar". I always avoid those questions because I don't really know how to answer them honestly. Shay just rolls her eyes and blows me a kiss before leaving.

"Dr. Cormier?" Aldous knocks lightly on her door, which is also mostly glass, but with an awfully gloomy tint. I inspect the shiny plate on the wall beside it, engraved 'Dr. Delphine Cormier, Chief Financial Officer'. There's another plate, not as spiffy, just below it 'and Interim Department Director'.

She must have responded because Aldous opens the door and gestures for me to follow. Her office isn't huge, but it sure is full of a lot of crap. When my gaze finally lands on her, I almost jump. She's sitting behind a glass-top desk, glaring at me like I just rifled through her underwear drawer. Although, looking at her, I wouldn't mind taking a peek.

There's a squeak as she leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. "What's this?" Her French accent is soft and sweet, but her words piss me off immediately.

"I'm actually a who, not a what," I defend, earning a smile from Aldous. She is not so amused. She looks me over for a moment, then back to Aldous.

"What is this?" she asks, a little less annoyed for some reason.

"This is Cosima, your new assistant starting today. I think you two will get along well, so I will leave you to it," he turns to leave and, before either of us can say anything, the door is clicking shut behind him.

I can hear the woman exhaling with frustration, mumbling about Aldous with an impressive amount of restrained belligerence.

Thwack!

Dr. Cormier throws a pile of folders and documents down on her desk when she storms back into her office after meeting with Mr. Mitchell. She's mumbling a little more aggressively than usual, mostly in French, which I secretly love.

It's too bad she's such a dick since she's pretty hot. She has incredibly beautiful moments, especially when she's peacefully concentrating, and sometimes when she's really angry. That tall, lean body, too. She typically wears pantsuits, but occasionally comes to work with a pretty blouse and skirt. I've seen a couple new guys try to come on to her, but it doesn't last longer than a couple seconds.

"Are you listening?" I notice she's standing at the door, staring at me.

"Huh? I shrink in my seat a little, as if she may be able to read my thoughts.

"Elle rêve d'baiser cette blonde sur mon bureau," she mumbles as she goes back to her seat. What a potty mouth.

"I heard blond and desk!" I yell and follow her into her office. She knows that I can understand some French. Probably more than she's aware of. I can't understand her at all when she speaks fast but I can get the idea. She likes to comment on me a lot in French. They're not usually nice comments. "I'm sorry, I was distracted. What'd I miss?"

She looks at me with a harsh stare and I can practically see the steam whistling out her ears and nose. "Go home and pack. We're leaving this evening". She starts shoving folders into her laptop bag.

"What? Where are we going? And for how long?"

"Canada. Four days". I can see now that she's more frustrated about this trip than she is about my distraction.

"Dude, that's awesome. Where in Canada?" I discovered that I have a twin sister who lives in Toronto just a few years ago. I wouldn't mind visiting her and her daughter.

"In the Canada part of Canada," she deadpans, expressionless. I have to say, she is pretty witty when she wants to be. She wouldn't have said something like that five months ago, that's for sure. She would never admit it, but I think she likes having me as her assistant. I've never heard her joke with anyone else. At the very least, she's comfortable with me.

"Do you have any secretarial experience?" She asks after I totally mess up her desk's organizational system. Still don't understand it. Good chance I'll mess it up again at some point.

"No, ma'am," I keep my chipper tone. It annoys the hell out of her.

"Then why did you apply to be an assistant?" I can't even tell if she's upset. She's not surprised, I can tell that much.

"I didn't. I applied to work in the labs and then Aldous stopped my interview to tell me I should work for you," I summarize.

"Why does that not surprise me…" she mumbles as she starts to reorganize her desk. She always looks especially irritated when Aldous' name comes up.

"Hey, I've been wondering…why do you always call him Dr. Leekie? Surely he's said you can be casual or whatever and call him Aldous – he told me that when we met".

She shakes her head lightly, irritated, but a little less so than before. "I don't care to be casual with Dr. Leekie. There's no reason for me to be. We are not friends, we are barely even co-workers, and I don't like him," she probably didn't mean to say the last part out loud, but it's been established that I'm not really a gossip.

"Oh, so is that why you also prefer to be call–"

"Would you please answer that?" she interrupts, and I notice the phone's ringing.

I'm only ten minutes late when my cab pulls up to the airport, but I'm still scared of the reaction I'm bound to get. Since it's later in the evening, the airport isn't as packed as it usually is, and I spot Dr. Cormier in no time.

"Cosima, do you know why it's important to show up on time for a flight?" It's not the worst greeting I've received from her.

"Uhm, because if you don't, the plane flies away without you?" She snaps her fingers and points at me, as if to say, 'you got it'. I follow her through the luggage and security lines, and we wait a whole hour for our flight to start boarding.

"Hey, why'd you tell me to be here at ten if the flight wasn't until midnight?" I realize, looking at my ticket, as we're being seated. She only looks at me and raises her eyebrows. Yeah, yeah, I tend to be late. I guess that's why she didn't lecture me more this time.

I sleep for most of the flight, but Dr. Cormier stays awake to read or something since it's only a few hours. When we finally make it to the hotel, it's 4:30 a.m. and the night shift dude jumps when the doors slide open.

"We have a reservation for two queen rooms, adjoined". Dr. Cormier takes the lead obviously.

"What name are the rooms booked under?"

"I'm not sure, our company made the reservations. Euh, try Cormier," she spells out her name for him. It's kind of weird hearing her say she didn't know something.

"Delphine?" she nods, "Okay great, I have two adults, one room, two queen beds. Nothing here says adjoining rooms, though, miss". Maybe it's because she's tired, but she doesn't seem to care. She takes the key cards and we make our way silently to the room. The door-opening privilege is mine, of course. I take a quick shower while she unpacks her suitcase, and when I get out, she is already under the covers, deep in sleep. She is probably the prettiest when she's sleeping. I don't know why I thought she'd still be scowling while unconscious.

"Well hello, chicken. I don't suppose I need to ask who you are?" The woman who opens the door smiles warmly, her accent overpowering. Jeez her eyes are bright, too.

"Hi, I'm–"

"Auntie Cosima!" I hear my name half a second before a little girl crashes into my leg and latches on.

"Oh, I thought I remembered Sarah saying something about having a monkey," I return Kira's awkward hug. We've been Skyping for a few months, but I just got the courage – and money – to fly up and meet everyone.

"Well come in, come in. Sarah's getting dressed. Why don't you have a seat and I'll bring you something to drink. Tea alright?" Siobhan looks so much like Sarah (and me, I guess).

When Sarah eventually comes downstairs, we're both stunned. We've seen each other's faces, but the whole picture right in front of us is much more authentic. We stare for a minute and then suddenly we're hugging and laughing for no reason.

I stay in Toronto for about a week and they show me around. Kira is such an amazing kid. I can't believe I have a niece! I can't believe I have family. Sarah was an orphan, too. Luckily, she had Siobhan and a brother – who I never get the chance to meet. It's so sad leaving, and Kira cries for a solid ten minutes, which doesn't help. I wait until I'm back on the plane to let a few tears fall.

Dr. Cormier's incessant and awful alarm starts going off around ten. There's a muffled groan and then a smack before the alarm is silenced. Of course, she would use some passive aggressive beeping sound to wake up. Maybe that's why she's so grumpy all the time. I wake up to music every morning because I don't want to hate myself as soon as I open my eyes.

I can hear her covers moving around and figure I should probably get up, too. I shove my glasses on my face, open my eyes, and immediately regret it. Just getting out of bed and heading toward the bathroom is a not-so-modestly-dressed Dr. Cormier. She's got a white tank-top and boy-shorts underwear. I throw my glasses back off and turn over in bed just as the bathroom door clicks shut.

The shower runs for a couple minutes and then the sink. I make sure that my eyes are closed tight the whole time, just in case she decides to come out naked or some stupid thing. She doesn't take long, and I hear her rummaging through the drawer by her bed soon enough. The sound of the drawer slamming shut makes me jump a little in bed. I curse loudly in my head, then re-position myself enough to make it look like she just disturbed my sleep.

"Oh merde, Cosima," I hear her whisper. I'm glad she was at least just unaware of my presence instead of flaunting her French perfection. It wouldn't surprise me if she was. She acts so stuck-up sometimes and I can't tell if it's just because she's French or just because she's an ass.

I stay "sleeping" for another forty-five minutes or so, hoping she'll fart or do something embarrassing, but she calls my name to wake me up eventually. I do my best to look like I'm just waking up, but I'm not sure how good my acting is. She's not paying attention anyway.

"So, what are we doing in Canada?" I ask after I've finished brushing my teeth.

She checks through her bags to make sure the things she packed yesterday didn't magically escape within the hours since she last checked them. "Well, seeing as you didn't ask until just now, I'm inclined to just not tell you at all". I know she's kidding, at least mostly, but jeez she makes it so hard to tell. She doesn't do the second half of the joke where you confirm everyone got it and haha it's funny. I don't know if she's even meaning to be funny. Jesus this woman is difficult.

"Were you just trying to find an excuse to take me away for the weekend? You sly dog, you," I sass, then in my very worst French accent, "We have reservations for separate rooms, oh quoi, zzzere's only one? I suppose zzzat would be alright. Oh non, Cosima, we have to share a–"

My monologue is cut short by the loud slam the heavy door makes as Dr. Cormier leaves without me. I really want to wait here to see if she comes back to get me, but I know that would make her genuinely angry. I like to bug her, but I don't like making her upset. So, I grab my jacket and room key before bolting out after her.

The good news is, we are indeed in Toronto. I really should have just paid attention during the flight or just read my ticket. There's no way I'm passing the opportunity up to see my family when the transportation is paid for. We even rented a car. The bad news is, this really is a business trip and I have to do the same shitty things I always do, just in a different place. Dr. Cormier probably got less sleep than I did and she's still powering through. That's the benefit of being known as a grouch; she doesn't have to use a whole bunch of energy to seem nice. It's established that she's not.

We have a conference at the Dyad Canadian Division center at noon, then some dinner event at 4:00 pm. By 4:10 pm, I am too exhausted to go on. I find a seat to station myself at instead of conversing with dusty old men. If Her Majesty doesn't like Dr. Leekie, I don't see how she's putting up with all these people. Everyone's smiling. It must be killing her just to witness people being positive and courteous.

She's smiling, too, though – kind of. She's smiling the kind of smile that you can't really say is bitchy, but it's obviously bitchy. Considering I've never – never – seen her smile sincerely, this must be more difficult than I can imagine. It's as I'm thinking about how hard she's working that I see it – the alcohol. This is probably why people believe in God. I quickly make my way over to the wine bar and grab two glasses as non-desperately as possible. I have the self-control to wait until I've sat down to drink. I set the second glass next to me so that it looks like it's not mine, ready to switch it out with the glass I'm emptying now. For a fancy event, it's not great wine.

I'm not entirely sure why I thought I could be happy for twenty minutes with some wine when my company is French. "Please tell me this glass is for me," she says with a desperation beyond any emotion I've ever witnessed come out of her.

"It's not, but you can have it," I barely finish my sentence before she's downing it shamelessly. She takes the seat next to mine and grimaces for a moment. I should have taken three glasses.

"This is disgusting," she stares at the empty glass like it's the culprit.

"Yep. Not the worst wine I've ever had, but not far down the list," I set my empty glass next to hers, along with my glasses so I can rub the fatigue out of my eyes.

"I didn't know you were a wine connoisseur," I catch her picking the glass up again automatically, then putting it back down once she realizes it's still empty.

"I know my way around a vinery," I sigh and put my glasses back on.

To my utter shock, just absolutely astounding, I look to my left and see a smile. And the smiler is Dr. Cormier. I don't know if she notices my eyes double in size or my voice shrink to nothing, but they do. When I hear a quiet, airy laugh, I know I've gone insane, or the wine was actually 100% alcohol, or I'm having auditory hallucinations because of my fatigue.

"Do you mean winery?" she asks, still smiling. I discreetly check my wrist's pulse. "Or vineyard?"

"What did I say?" My pulse is fine, but I think I feel dizzy or lightheaded or something. I can't even come up with a sarcastic remark. She's not really smiling anymore, but she doesn't have that vacant, depressing expression.

"Vinery," she looks back out at the flock of business people wondering around. "Shall we return to the hotel now?"

"Dear God, either that or kill me," my wishful thinking has me hoping for another smile, but all she does is get up and push her chair in. I follow her back to the parking lot, and she hands me the car keys. "I'm pretty sure a vinery is still a thing, though," I defend my earlier slip up. She looks back and shakes her head with an eye roll and, like, one eighth of a smile. Win.

The next day is pretty similar except the first big conference is at 9:00 am. We go to a presentation about expanding to cosmetics and genetically modified foods. It's so incredibly boring, as if they left out anything remotely interesting just for fun. However, it's entertaining to watch Dr. Cormier cross her arms, bounce her leg, and roll her eyes through the whole thing. Before they even started, she told me to not even bother taking notes or numbers for it. She's feisty.

"Before we go back to the hotel, we should find some decent wine to sneak into tomorrow's event. As much as I love being sober during those things–"

"Yes," she answers immediately, though I was mostly kidding. "Siri, the nearest liquor store, please," she orders her phone. It's adorable how wrong she can be with technology sometimes, especially when she seems so modern. She doesn't even have an iPhone, she just calls every digital voice Siri.

When we walk in, she looks more like an employee than a customer. She searches through the bottles like books in a library, thumbing through brands and colors. I just let her do her thing – she would be the best person to pick the wine anyways. She slides three different bottles off the shelf and, just as I think she's going to choose the best of the three, she sets them all on the register counter instead.

"Your total comes to C$163, miss," before I can verbalize my objection, Dr. Cormier is already handing over the cash. For no reason, it isn't until this very moment, five and a half months into my assistant-hood that I wonder what the hell she has a doctorate in. Accounting? Finance? Medicine? Scowling?

Dr. Cormier stores two bottles next to the mini-fridge, and the third bottle inside it, and without a word goes to the bathroom to change. She returns a few minutes later with the same white tank top, but this time full length sweatpants. I'm a little relieved but also a little disappointed.

"I thought you weren't supposed to put wine in the fridge?" I ask as she puts her day clothes back in the drawer.

"You're not, really. But I prefer to enjoy white wine chilled," I expect her to sound pretentious, but she sounds more like a child waiting for her parent to pay for the candy she chose. She's awfully excited for a treat that we won't have until tomorrow, though.

"Aren't you just supposed to chill it for a few minutes before you – oh," she ignores me completely and fetches the bottle from the fridge. "Do you plan to save any for tomorrow's bullshit, or are you just going to get hammered on all three tonight?"

"Well first of all," she pulls a goddamn corkscrew out of her purse, "There are no meetings tomorrow, the rest are the day after". Pop. "And secondly, maybe you don't know this, but I'm French. I've been drinking wine since I was ten. It takes more than three bottles to get me intoxicated enough to be considered 'hammered', Cosima".

Just as I'm about to hand her the paper cup that comes with the crappy coffee machine, she takes a pull, straight from the bottle and sits down at the table. "Jesus Christ, Cormier. It's weird enough seeing you not all dressed up. Do you have to throw in your secret alcoholism, too?"

She ignores me again, as it seems is consistent with the presence of wine. She closes her eyes after another sip and lets her head lean back against the wall. "I haven't had wine – real wine – in years. I can't believe how long it's been". She has that expression that's not a smile, but not her typical grumpiness.

I sit down at the table next to her and pour my little paper cup up with wine. "I don't want to sound too lame or stereotypical, but…why don't you smile, like, ever?" She gives me a look with her eyebrow raised. "I'd like to see you smile more, you know, because you honestly look so–"

"Beautiful when you smile? Ouai, very original". She closes her eyes again.

I continue, despite her rather arrogant assumptions. "Because you look so unhappy all the time and it makes people feel uneasy. Being so grossly disconnected from expression isn't healthy," She opens her eyes again, but only looks down at her feet. "Don't worry too much about your reputation, I was still terrified of you when you smiled today for two seconds".

"So, I should just go around smiling at everyone all the time so that they don't feel uneasy?" she shakes her head and takes another drink.

"Dude, no. I'm a selfish being, fuck everybody else. I don't care if your dying grandmother is begging you for a smile. I'd like them all to myself". I laugh at myself for a moment. I'm kidding for the most part, but I wouldn't mind feeling more at ease around her.

I feel my cup being filled again and look back at Dr. Cormier in time to see her down the last drop from the bottle. She looks a little wobbly, even sitting down, and her face has a slight pink tint. "Hey," I get her attention for a moment, "When is the last time you drank more than half a glass of wine?"

"Hmm, my twenty-seventh birthday, I believe". She closes her eyes once again and lets her head drop back to the wall with a thud.

"Do you think that maybe your alcohol tolerance has decreased a bit since then?" I poke her limp arm resting on the table. She doesn't react.

"Ah, maybe a little, but I'm not drunk". She opens her eyes and looks down at the spot on her arm I touched a moment ago, confused.

I giggle to myself and set my glasses on the table before gulping the remaining wine from my cup like a shot. I'm buzzed, but my alcohol tolerance is pretty high at this point in my life. I can feel her staring at me and, as much as I try to ignore it, the feeling keeps bugging me. When I glance in her direction, I can barely make out that she looks…focused. "What?"

"Without glasses, you look so…different…" it sounds like that sentence took a lot of effort to construct.

"Yeah, most people say prettier or less dorky," I look in the direction of the black blob that is my glasses.

"Not prettier, you're attractive both ways, just in a different way. You look…older maybe. More serious," her drunken description leaves me speechless.

"Jeez, okay. Well I think you're drunk enough for me to ask a favor…" I prepare for a fight.

"I'm not drunk," she defends, wholeheartedly.

"Of course not. So, the thing is, I have some family in Toronto, and it would mean the world if I could go see them tomorrow, especially if we're free all day". I think my point is convincing enough, but I don't know if she's a nice drunk, or an asshole drunk.

"That's fine. But you have to drive me to the shopping district after you're done," she slurs, and I'm worried she won't remember agreeing. I consider persuading her into signing something for proof, but she's already passed out in the chair.

"If you don't want to wait at the hotel, then just come with me and we'll go shopping or whatever straight from her house," I try to compromise with the slightly hungover blond. She takes a moment to assess her options but agrees eventually.

The drive takes us about forty-five minutes, during which Dr. Cormier is pretty much silent. I don't drive her around too much at home, but whenever I do, it's always quiet. It's not uncomfortable, though, I think it's because I know she's not expecting me to make conversation, maybe even hoping I don't make conversation.

When we park in front of the house, I pull out my phone to text Sarah, and then unlatch my seat-belt. I pause my door-opening midway when I notice Dr. Cormier not moving. "You coming?"

She gives me a look that makes me think that was a stupid question. "I'll wait in the car," she bites back, then pulls out her smartphone. I glare at her for a moment while she's not looking before closing the door and making my way up to the house.

"Cosima, love!" Siobhan answers the door and pulls me in for a warm hug.

"Hey S, I've missed you. You never join our video chats anymore!" Over Siobhan's shoulder, I see Sarah and Kira coming to join my greeting.

"Cos, my favorite long-lost identical twin sister," Sarah barely gets in before Kira is squeezing my waist and yelling my name. "So, what brings you up here?" Sarah backs up to let me inside.

"That lady pouting in the car out front," I say, pointing outside before Siobhan closes the front door. "I'm her assistant and she had to come up here for business".

"Why didn't you invite her in?" Siobhan keeps the door open as we all gawk at her. She's busy playing solitaire on her phone so she doesn't notice us.

"Oh, I did. She's not the warmest of people, though, so she opted to wait in the car". I explain to the house mother, who seems to be the only one still interested.

"Well, that just won't do. Kira," the little girl comes bounding back down the hall and halts at Ms. S' side. "You see that lady out there?" Kira nods, "She's Cosima's friend. Should we invite her inside with us?"

"Of course!" Kira's bubbly attitude reminds me of myself when I was younger.

"Well, she's shy, it seems. Do you want to see if puppy-dog eyes work on her?" Kira nods once before sprinting to the car. Sarah snorts from the living room while Siobhan and I just lean inside the door frame watching as an unsuspecting doctor comes under ambush. Using the children, I like it.

Kira knocks on the passenger window, making Dr. Cormier jump. The little girl doesn't give her the chance to even roll down the window. Kira opens the passenger door and grabs hold of the woman's wrist. We can barely make out what she's whining, "Won't you come inside, too? It'll make me sad if you stay out here all alone!" Dr. Cormier stutters for a moment, the most unprepared I've ever seen her, but doesn't get the chance to decline as Kira's pulling her by the sleeve.

I'm relieved that she doesn't just push Kira away and close the door. I'm not too sure how she feels about kids, but by the looks of it, she's not very happy. She actually looks kind of terrified. I was expecting a death glare, but she looks like she's being dragged through the enemy's grounds into a hostage cell.

"Auntie Cosima, you have a really pretty girlfriend," Kira announces as she and her hostage approach us. She's met a girlfriend of mine before through our video chats, so she knows my romantic preference. I wonder if Kira is just trying to be playful or if she is actually under the impression Doctor Frenchness is my special lady friend.

I see that I definitely have the upper hand here since Dr. Frenchness is still paralyzed and being dragged around by a little girl. I decide to take advantage of it and deal with the consequences later. "The prettiest," Dr. Cormier's attention finally comes to the conversation. "You don't think she's prettier than me though, do you?" Kira looks at me then back at Dr. Cormier for a minute. She turns to smile at me with an expression that says she doesn't want to answer. "You little…" I pick Kira up and throw her over my shoulder. She's laughing so hard she can't put up much of a struggle. Siobhan rolls her eyes and invites everyone inside finally. I reach behind me and grab Dr. Cormier's hand, "C'mon, Schnookums". To my surprise, she clutches my hand and lets me lead her inside.

"Thought blondie was your boss, Cos," Sarah comments from the couch as we all enter the room.

"Yeah, well Kira saw straight through us. What can I say?" I set Kira down and she launches herself onto Sarah's lap. Dr. Cormier still has a tight grip on my hand, and I can feel her trembling slightly. I don't know why this is so terrifying when she spends all day faking smiles with a hundred strangers for business.

"Tea alright for you two ladies?" Siobhan shouts from the kitchen. I answer yes for both of us since I'm evidently the only one still functional, and then guide her down to the couch where she hides her discomfort with amazing ineffectiveness.

After about forty-five minutes of idle chat and catching up, Dr. Cormier seems to be more comfortable. It could be due to the fact that she has completely muted herself from any conversation and is focused solely on her cup of tea.

"Alright, Monkey. I think it's time for a nap," Sarah departs to take Kira upstairs, leaving Siobhan with me and my awkward boss-girlfriend.

"So, Cosima love," S breaks the silence. "When did you start seeing…" she trails off as we all realize that I haven't even introduced everyone.

"Dr. Cormier, and…she really is just my boss," I'm nervous for some reason now. The kid is gone – the one person more powerful than Dr. Cormier. Can't bitch out and strangle your assistant when the offspring are present.

Siobhan nods and smiles at my couch-mate, "Well, it's lovely to meet you. I'm Siobhan Sadler, currently serving as mother hen to the two upstairs. Call me Siobhan or S if you like".

"Nice to meet you, ehm," the woman beside me stumbles over her words – a first for her that I've seen. "Please, call me Delphine," any semblance of ease that the woman had a moment ago is long gone after she finishes her sentence. She looks petrified.

"And those two upstairs are my recently-discovered twin sister, Sarah, and her daughter-slash-monkey, Kira," I finish and get a nod from Delphine. I wonder how many people actually get to call her by her first name. Certainly no one from the office, definitely not myself.

"Oh, it wasn't that recent," Sarah says as she walks back into the room. "It's been a few years since the orphans reunited". I snort and roll my eyes. Sarah likes to refer to us (and Felix) as 'the orphans.'

"Orphans?" I hear a timid voice beside me, "Is Siobhan not your mother?" Everyone is quiet for a moment, surprised that the woman actually made a sound on purpose.

"S is mine and Fe's foster mum, landed in her lap about nine years after jumping around the system. But Cos here, she got parents right off the bat". To someone else, it may have sounded resentful, but I'm well aware that Sarah doesn't really care. Siobhan has been a great mother to her, and she knows how lucky she is to have happened upon her.

"I think it must'a been my looks that lured Mr. and Mrs. Niehaus into this purchase," I gesture toward myself smugly.

"Yeah, right. I think we can admit who got the beauty genes and who got the brains, miss scientist". Sarah flips me off and Siobhan smacks her hand.

"Cosima, chicken, you have to come back sometime in the fall. Felix is always away in the summer," Siobhan redirects our conversation. I think she notices Dr. Cormier continuously checking her watch and is maybe trying to start an exit conversation. S is always so nice. I kind of want to apologize for bringing my boss along. She's so difficult.

"Next time I'll try to come in the fall," I smile awkwardly, prepared for the weird silence that's followed by a sigh and an okay well I guess we should get going, but Sarah beats me to it, God bless her.

"Well, can't miss you if you're still here. Go on and play with your microscopes and tubes or whatever you lot play with". Siobhan rolls her eyes but doesn't argue. We all exchange hugs while Dr. Cormier pretends to be comfortable standing by the door.

By the time we start driving again, it's about two in the afternoon. I didn't expect us to be there so long. I sigh and glance over at the shotgun occupant. She's quiet, staring out the window. I think she's biting her nails. I feel bad now, but her reaction was super unexpected. I feel like I need to make it up to her since she was drunk when she agreed to this. "Hey, how about we go out for a late lunch, my treat, and then we can go wherever. Sound good?"

She looks in my direction, not at me, and nods. I just can't tell what mood she's in. Honestly, she looks sad or tired, not angry. We stop for gas and I search for some French restaurant on my phone. Several are close to the shopping district she wants to peruse, all kind of pricey. I select the first one on the list and set the destination on the map so Siri (not Siri) can direct us there. Dr. Cormier is silent for the entire drive and it is killing me. I don't know how, but this silence is different from the silence at home. At home, she's all confident and arrogant and shitty ignoring me, but she's just not the same right now.

It's pretty quiet when we get to the restaurant. Our party doesn't exactly bring any change to the noise level. She orders a salad. We don't go out to eat very often, but she always orders a fucking salad. It's annoying until I get my plate of warm pasta.

"Your family is…nice," she says to her salad.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't think you'd literally be dragged in. Can't really argue with Kira, though".

"Kira?" she asks her salad.

"Yes, the shortest human we encountered on that visit…" I'm surprised she couldn't manage one name.

"The girl," she miraculously recalls. "Sarah is your twin. How do you know that you are twins?"

"Well, we're the same age, and we also look rather similar, wouldn't you say?"

"How did you find her?" she asks her glass of water.

"Ah, well my deal-…friend…my friend is a friend of her foster brother and Facebook and shit," she looks confused for a moment and it's a little bit adorable. "Facebook is a social media site that a lot of the youth like to involve themselves in".

"Thank you," death glare, "I'm aware".

I finish my pasta soon enough and wait for my card to come back with the receipt. Dr. Cormier won't stop eyeing her watch. "So, why no meetings today? They figure everyone deserved a break, or is tomorrow just going to be that awful that we needed a day to prepare?"

"There are presentations today, just none that are relevant to us apparently".

"Ah, okay. So, shopping it is. Where are we going?" I shove the card back in my wallet and we head back to the car.

"I'd like to just go back to the hotel," she says tiredly. We get in the car and she closes her eyes. I really do feel bad now.

"Look, I didn't mean to wear you out with my family. I can carry all your shit and do all the work with shopping. You don't have to do anything, I promise," I can't believe I'm begging her to shop.

"Cosima, it's fine," she says in a tone that doesn't entirely indicate that it's fine. "I just wanted to occupy my time somehow, I really don't like shopping that much. I'm just tired, please go back to the hotel". She speaks softly, like she's not trying to make me feel bad for once. More so even – like she's attempting to make me not feel bad. It's weird. I decide to just drive before things get weirder.

I think I was less nervous for my first date than I am now. A day trip to Rochester was a little daunting when I was informed about it, but it wasn't going to be any longer than my usual workday. However, I did not anticipate a meal at a sit-down restaurant with my new boss. New-ish. A month is still new, right?

She orders a salad and it makes me feel a little bad about my choice of sandwich and fries, but whatever. She's still just as talkative here as she is in the office. It's normal at the office, though. Here, it's awkward. "So, why did all your other assistants quit on you?" I ask boldly. That's got to break the ice.

She gives me a look that I can't really place. "I'm not always as amicable as some people apparently require for a boss".

"Why do you need an assistant? Didn't you used to not have one at all?"

"That was before I was forced into taking an interim position that I didn't ask for. All the tedious work you do, I used to do. I no longer have time for it, so now you're paid to do it". She is definitely feisty, but I can't tell if she's directing her resent at me or whoever forced her into the position. I just nod.

"Why's the CFO need to travel around? Don't you just…well I guess I don't really know what you do…" she rolls her eyes. It wasn't a purposeful attempt at irritation, but I'm still taking the win.

"The CFO doesn't usually travel around. The Department Director, however, makes many political and social trips. It's been a waste of time since the phone was invented".

She isn't wrong. It does seem pointless to come all the way down here and talk about stuff that could have easily been done over the phone or in an email. Additionally, she's not the friendly type of businessperson that you enjoy a visit from every now and again…

"Just out of curiosity, are you going to buy even more wine for tomorrow, or just give up, drink it all by six o'clock, and forego intoxication after the night is over?" I take the empty bottle and throw it away. There's only one left and she is eyeing it like water in a desert. Little scary.

"J'ai une question, Cosima," she slurs. I hum in response, barely paying attention. I can't find a channel on the television that I like. "Your sister, she said you are a scientist. What did she mean?"

I scoff, confused by the question. I applied for a lab position at a scientific research facility. What does she think it means? "I think the doctorate in Scientist-ing has something to do with it. Just a shot in the dark".

She glances at me with an expression that kind of looks like she doesn't believe me. "You have… If you have a doctorate, why the hell are you working as an assistant?"

I sit down at the table next to her, every other entertainment option exhausted. "I've told you before. I applied to work in the labs, but Dr. Leekie just showed up during my interview," I recite the whole memory to her to the best of my ability. She seems to grasp the main plot.

"What an odd encounter," I nod as she thinks it over more than necessary. "But he said that he liked you after just a few moments. How could he have known anything about your personality at that point?"

"I don't know, man. I figured he was just making shit up to get me to work for you," she's not really pissing me off, but she has a lot of hostility with Dr. Leekie that seems unwarranted.

She nods, but not really in a way that says she understands. "It's strange, Cosima. You need to be careful around him. You worry me more often than not," she says as her eyelids start to droop.

"It's so sweet that you worry about me," I click my tongue and shake my head as she opens her eyes to glare at me. "It's just…you're my boss. This obsession with me simply isn't appropriate," she usually exits the conversation once I get flirty, but today she's not backing down.

"You should listen to me, Cosima".

I sigh and roll my eyes, "Dr. Cormier, when was your birthday?"

She gives me an ugly look, "November 12th. Why?"

"Year," I roll my eyes.

"1980".

"You are only four years older than me. Why should I take your advice as gospel? You're not my grandmother. You don't have eighty plus years of life experience". She gives up then, rolling her eyes back at me and attempting to get up. Her attempt fails, though, and she almost face-plants. I catch her like a bag of flour, and she clutches onto my arms for a moment. I get the feeling she's going to vomit down the front of my shirt and so I brace for it, but it never comes.

She seems to have enough of a grip on herself to pull herself up to a mostly standing position. I can see her ogling the bed, so I try to guide her in that direction. We're almost there, just a couple feet, when she decides to trip over her own damn briefcase and hit her head on the bedside table.

"Jesus Christ, Cormier," I yell automatically before crouching over the heap of a woman and adjusting her so she's sitting. "Don't fucking die on me". She groans and brings her hand to the side of her forehead where blood is starting to trickle down her cheek.

I grab a washcloth and a cup of water from the bathroom and return to the injured woman. I think she's already passed out, though. Actually, that might be better if I'm going to tend to her forming lump. I set the cup down and try to find a place next to her on the floor to sit. The beds are too close together though so there's not enough room. I straddle her limp legs instead, attempting to clear away the blood from her face and now neck. It is so tiring though, and even though I'm not as drunk as her, I don't have the strength to do it. I lower myself to her lap instead, hoping she's too drunk to notice or care, but she wakes up a little. I ignore her for now and just work on the blood surrounding her wound. I'm not a medical doctor, but I figure wiping a rough washcloth over a fresh gash wouldn't feel good.

"Band-aid?" I ask in case she's at all conscious. She nods in the direction of her purse, so I fetch it and dig around until I find a little plastic case with bandages and some antibacterial cream. She's always prepared, can't deny that.

When I return to her again, I opt for the non-sitting type of straddling since she's more aware now. I stick the bandage in my mouth while I try to position her hair back far enough that I won't be sticking the bandage onto it. That would suck when she has to take it off and I'm sure she would blame me and make me pay somehow.

Out of nowhere, I feel her hands push against my waist, presumably guiding me down again, which I comply with hesitantly. She has kind of touched me before, but just the professional kind like a tap on the arm or a light slap on the leg when I'm being impatient in meetings. This is very different, whole new level, unexpected, and a little unexplainable. Well, no. I guess she is drunk. She mumbles something I can't understand, and I don't try to either. I just continue doctoring her drunken injury.

I really don't know if I should take her to the hospital or not. She didn't hit her head super hard, it just scraped enough to bleed, but I don't want it to be my fault if she has a concussion and ends up with major brain damage because I didn't feel like going back out. She's tired anyway and wouldn't be easy for doctors to deal with when she's drunk. I take a calculated risk and just help her into bed. We'll see how she's feeling tomorrow.

Our last day of meetings and last day in Canada starts out with some light rain, but an unpleasantly murky sky. Dr. Cormier is still sleeping so I decide to take a shower before she gets up. Throughout my entire morning routine, showering, dressing, teeth-brushing, I am incredibly anxious that she's actually just dead. God, the paperwork I would have to endure.

When I exit the bathroom, she's already finished dressing. She's sitting on the side of the bed, cradling her skull. I can't even imagine waking up to a hangover and head trauma combination. She sure is handling it better than I would've. After a moment of observing her, I start to pack her things since we're checking out this morning before any meetings or presentations. It's only then that she notices my presence.

"What are you doing?" she turns to watch me but doesn't move.

"Picking up your slack, boss. Take it easy right now, okay, because I don't have the capability to pick up your slack when we get into those hordes of men". She nods and squeezes her eyes shut again. The little that I brought with me is already packed and it doesn't take me long to gather her crap. I hand her the briefcase that was her demise last night and head to the door.

"Don't forget your pills, Cosima," she calls after me while she attempts to stand. I look back at her confused before I see what she's talking about.

"Those are for you. Duh," I roll my eyes. I left some pain reliever and orange juice next to her bed. I thought it was pretty obvious, but I guess not. Jeez, I thought she already took those, too, so she must still be in full pain mode. She can't be that socially inept. Can she?

"For me?" She looks back at the pills questioningly.

"Yeah, I'm not the one who got hammered and smacked my face on a table," I explain and start towards the door again. I stop when I remember something, "By the way, how much do you remember from last night?"

She takes the pills and chugs most of the orange juice. She doesn't answer for a moment, thinking I presume. "I hit my head, at some point you asked me where to find bandages, I was…mad at you for some reason, and then I think I fell asleep".

"That's about it," I decide not to recap the whole lap incident. It could have been nothing.

We soldier through the slimy continental breakfast and then we're on our way to the center of town for our first presentation, surely riveting. It's not very far from the hotel, but the morning traffic leaves us a bit bored in the car.

"Hey, I had a question for you," I try to start casually since I know she isn't big into conversation. She murmurs a response that indicates she's listening. "You don't really strike me as the roommate type of person, but you seemed perfectly fine when the dude said we were sharing a room. I was totally fine with it, I don't hate the human race, but I was wondering why you were cool with it?"

She looks at me with a brow raised. I can't tell if she thinks I'm nosy or…I don't know…she's too hard to read. "If you must know, I spent most of my youth living with roommates. I was in boarding school from an early age," she explains in a tone that tells me she isn't going to explain further. She looks back out the window and tries her best to ignore me. Her answer sufficed for me anyway. Boarding school, though, that's interesting. I've never known anyone whose been to boarding school and I've always thought it was more of a punishment for bad kids, I guess. She doesn't seem like she was a bad kid though. I glance over at her again, this time with a new perspective. Maybe there's a good reason for why she is the way she is.