Sophia let out a sharp laugh, incredulous at his attempt to casually explain away the mechanism of his deceit. Her eyes darkened as he said something about preparing for this months ago. If this was meant to comfort her, he was doing a shit job of it. That pointedly concerned and bemused expression on his face was also of little comfort, and she resisted the urge to slap it off him.

“I don’t believe you,” she said icily instead. “I don’t believe you for an instant. A cologne? Then explain what happened! Explain to me how months ago you crafted a scent so that you could smell exactly like him, so much so that I could see and taste and feel our morning together from ten years ago!” Who ‘he’ was she did not elaborate, because in her mind she didn’t have to. If Ozymandias had rifled through any thoughts at all, he would have seen Jacob in nearly every instant.

She resolved, then, that no distance between them would be enough. The woman proceeded to slip off the chaise from her side, and rounded to pull her changing robe from off its hook on the wall, tying its loops taut against her waist. “I cannot fathom how you could proceed with a clear conscience,” her voice was breaking, though she determinedly kept tears back. Rounding back to him, she swept her hand with a savage single gesture, flinging Dempsey’s pile of clothes sitting on the floor right at his face.

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