[ I mean. Okay. Sarah's not sure she agrees with this sentiment, exactly. She can understand why it's going through Sarissa's mind—it would go through hers, in the same situation, she's sure—but the thought of keeping this from Cosima, even for a short length of time, just seems wrong. They're clones (and Sarissa's still one of them, whatever biology might dictate); the first response to any threatening situation is to hop on the clone phone and discuss. Still, it's what Sarissa wants, and Sarissa's the one missing a hand. ]
( Her mouth opens to continue, then closes. She has no idea what to say, and if she even wants to say it. It's too vast. It's like— like trying to figure out which part of a ship to start bailing water out of, when all you've got to get the job done is a teacup. Insurmountable, and all that.
What'll happen if she lets the ship keep sinking? What happens if she tries to bail it out and fails?
Instead, she just holds out her hand, hoping Sarah will take it. )
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Alright. If that's what you want.
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( It's not a helpful thing to say, and she mouths a near silent sorry before letting her hand slide back to her side. )
You deserve better than dealing with my shit all the time. All of you.
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[ Sarissa does have a lot of shit, it's true. But it's not like Sarah has any less. ]
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( Yeah, they sure do. Sarissa is quiet for a moment, and swallows.
That "quiet for a moment" ends up stretching out for a while. )
My cover got blown. People I was infiltrating figured out I used to be a cop.
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What'll happen if she lets the ship keep sinking? What happens if she tries to bail it out and fails?
Instead, she just holds out her hand, hoping Sarah will take it. )