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They’ve been at this tedious game for over an hour. It appears that Sarah is still en route and inaccessible, so Scott has spent this time teaching her the ins and outs of Agricola. She has no interest in farming, medieval or contemporary, and it disgusts her that this is how Mr. Smith elects to spend his leisure time.
“So there are 169 occupation cards, from woodcutter to bread seller to a stable master, and then you use the improvement cards—“
She doesn’t care. The only occupation that Rachel is interested in is the one that Delphine stole from her. Yet, in order to recapture that prize, it seems she first has to learn this ridiculous game in the interim.
“B—Break?” Rachel stammers, her one good eye gazing at Scott in something she hopes is akin to pleading. This charade is exhausting, albeit necessary, and once it is no longer required, perhaps she will gift Sarah Manning with this particular disability.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Scott agrees. Rachel watches with interest as he fumbles around in his pocket for his phone. What she wouldn’t give to have access to the outside world, if only for a moment. However, it seems that Doctor Cormier has at least one intelligent thought in that French head of hers and has denied her access to all means of communication.
Delphine had even placed a ban on cellular phones in her quarters. It had to do with a misguided belief that Rachel would somehow compromise the others. Yes, because her feigned aphasia afforded her the opportunity to talk with DYAD staff. Idiot. Doctor Nealon had laughed heartily when he informed her of the decree.
“Phone? In here?”
Scott, to his credit, appears sheepish and embarrassed over his blatant disregard of protocol. This is far better than Cosima, who seems to revel in her ability to thwart authority.
“Oh, um, shoot. It’s just—Denise has asthma and I have to give her, uh, her medication.”
He has to administer albuterol to a woman named Denise? Rachel finds him awkward and bumbling and completely unsuitable, however, this is pathetic. You simply place the inhaler into your mouth and puff, hardly the type of medication that necessitates a second individual.
Now, to ascertain what he is not telling her. They are supposed to be partners, after all, and her plans require a certain level of knowledge of the persons she is set to undermine.
“Denise?”
Scott positively glows at her question and flashes her that toothy smile he prefers. So Denise is an actual person—she must be in her nineties. Unless he spends his off hours in a convalescent home, something is still off, as his family is State side and nowhere near the border.
“Denise is my cat! I’ve had her for five years and when uh, when I was hired here, I had to move. But I took her with me,” Scott grins, as if this something to be proud of. Rachel had asked for a pet, once, immediately after moving to the DYAD. Aldous had simply clucked his tongue and informed her that such a request was childish.
Rachel chooses to ignore the year she’d named all the lab rats. They all died eventually and so did her desire for a companion animal.
“—And my apartment here is damper than the one in Minnesota. It really bothers Denise’s lungs.”
He is still talking about his cat. And she is forced to behave as if she is interested in this line of conversation. Rachel almost thinks that another lesson in Agricola strategy is preferable.
“Fe—Feline Asthma?”
“Yeah. It’s managed, but pretty scary when it acts up. She’s delicate, kind of, like you.”
Delicate? That is preposterous. She might be injured, but she has risen above it and her plans are in motion. Soon, she will show Scott Smith precisely how delicate she truly is.
“I am not—“
“No, uh, it’s more, she looks delicate, okay?” Scott fumbles over himself once he’s realized that his comments were poorly received. “She has this illness and people forget that Denise has claws.”
Rachel is silent as she contemplates his comparison. Yes, perhaps they have forgotten—Delphine and Felix, both. Certainly, they levy threats; attack her weakness, however, both believe that they are immune to repercussions.
She will enjoy disavowing them of that notion.
“Do, uh, do you want to see her—Denise?”
No, she does not wish to see Scott’s cat. But if she is to continue with this farce, concessions are required. So Rachel nods her head and Scott practically leaps toward her, phone in hand.
“Ok, so this is Denise fighting Darth Vader like a true Jedi and this is—“
Rachel ignores Scott as he flips through photograph after photograph. Denise lasing on countertops, Denise with her paws around a small plastic figure, Denise with her stomach exposed—how many photographs does Scott have?
He keeps flipping through and Rachel gazes on disinterestedly until he settles on his cat staring at him pathetically in a Batman costume. There is a visible look of disdain in Denise’s eye, and yet, she is unable to disrobe herself.
Rachel feels oddly sympathetic to Denise’s plight.
“You d—dress your cat?”
Scott’s cheeks turn crimson at that. Good, he’s embarrassed. He should be embarrassed—this is repugnant. Denise is an animal not a child.
“Only on Halloween, it’s kind of my thing—“
“No—“
“Wait, what?” Scott interrupts. “You don’t like my baby Denise as Kate Kane? You don’t like Batwoman.”
Rachel has no idea who, or what, Batwoman is—only that his pet appears miserable in this getup. Perhaps with a collar, or something more suited to an animal, she might be more comfortable.
How loathsome Rachel’s life has become that she is now concerned with a feline’s comfort.
“Enough. Delphine, soon—“
Scott notices her refusal to respond and looks away, as if she’s wounded him. And what is this peculiar feeling of guilt—too much Agricola. It’s gone to her head. Scott is useful, a pawn. Little else. Any other thoughts to the contrary are useless and wasteful. Soon, she will have rid herself of her cage, and then she will rid herself of all those who put her here.
Unlike Denise, Rachel cannot be domesticated. Rachel has no masters, and they will rue the day they put her here and forgot how treacherous she can be when required.