#propuppy

Sex, as it were, does not appear to fall under Delphine Cormier's expertise.

Cormier spent years as Dr. Leekie's glorified arm candy, and now seems to have leeched on to Cosima like some resilient mold. Still, Delphine's face and hand between Rachel's thighs are doing nothing to support the hangings-on of colleagues, and certainly not the carrying on that occasionally emanates from the lab at night.

At best, Rachel has a headache. She rakes a hand through her hair, "Must we continue, Dr. Cormier?"

Delphine sits back, bewildered and afraid and the kind of desperate that comes off her in stinking waves. Her mouth is wet, and she wipes it, hesitant. "I, no, of course not Ms. Duncan, I--"

"Save it for Cosima, Dr. Cormier." The situation, Rachel considers, is not ideal. Perhaps dear Delphine worries that her lover will discover this transgression. Still, Dyad expects it's scientists to perform under pressure, and that Delphine has not done. "I'm certain she soothes your internalised self-hatred with false platitudes. And for what, the privilege of faked orgasms and spared feelings?"