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"It's what I expected," Cuddy says. Thirteen's very glad Cuddy tips her head back and rolls her eyes at herself, otherwise she'd have to interject with Really? You expected to adopt a teenage patient's abandoned daughter and raise her with a motormouth private investigator?

Instead she says, "Hm," and takes a non-judgemental sip of her wine.

Cuddy's heels have fallen from her feet. She's curled on the couch, blue eyes dark as twilight and a little distant. "To find the right guy...did your father...?"

Thirteen tenses subtly, away from questions, but Cuddy's distant musing isn't about her. "Or the right woman," Thirteen says lightly.

Cuddy nods absently, and then she looks at Thirteen, really looks at her-- that Dean of Medicine stare, evaluating her and insisting that it's her way or a very unpleasant career. Her wine glass clinks down on the coffee table, and she rises to her feet.

Whether it's a goodnight hint or an offer to get more comfortable-- it's Thirteen's risk to take. Cuddy's self-assurance is thinner than Thirteen ever believed.

She steps forward, and kisses her softly; she lets go of expectations. Eric's forgotten; this is new. Hers. And Remy takes Lisa's hand, accepting.