She breaks into gorgeous laughter, nearly doubling over for a second, appalled at herself. At her daring. At the tiny bit of alluvial deposits, so small you could miss it, she's let herself keep hidden. Like a silly girl: "Did I just say that?" Any Adama's better when he's not trying to run the game, be a man, hold back -- any Adama's better when he forgets himself, watch: "It's worth it just seeing you laugh like that," he says. They sober up, because those were some magic words right there. And some magic laughing. "We've been at war so long sometimes we forget what we're fighting for," he says. "Raise our kids in peace, enjoy one another's company. Live life as people again." Fine. You knew she'd go first, didn't you? That's the kind of person she is: give you every chance to prove yourself, but eventually she's going to get tired of fucking around, and then she'll airlock your ass: "Like that night on New Caprica, that's really what we are talking about, here, now. Isn't it?"
"That, and...other times..." Um, like every scene you two have together? Like that? With the incredible sweetness and really confusing hotness? "So," she says: "If the Cylons hadn't come back?" We swore a lot of things. "But they did." He smiles, so sadly. He's really...beautiful sometimes. Edward James Olmos, that face is a lot to have coming at you. But I swear sometimes he's really just -- and I don't mean this in a gay way or like he's pretty, because he's not, but because men have never been commodities, we don't have enough words for men, or for male beauty, without it coming off that way -- he can be really beautiful. He comes closer to her, as he's pulling away: "We have certain responsibilities." Somewhere Carolanne wins, and whatever happened before Carolanne that made him like this. Or he's right, and titans shouldn't ever clash in a sex-type way. I like thinking about unions that would actually ruin everything, like if Romeo Corp and Juliet Industries came together, they would create a monopoly and kill all infrastructure or something. There have to be checks and balances, I guess. Maybe he's right. Or maybe he's just running, still. These are walking wounded: other words for Zak include the Wall of Remembrance, Kat, his wedding photograph. Olympic Carrier. Billy Keikeya. How can you risk wanting more, when you lose everything you love? Who can love in wartime?
"Yes we do, sir," she says, all packed up. "And, uh, I will be back. In a few days. And if you'd like, we can...talk more about that night." That, and other times. Tell us more about the other times! She turns back, at the door, putting her tags in so that even an Adama can't ignore it, while still staying true to her own circuitous shit. "Bill? The answer's yes." Dur. But just because she's a creature like no other: "I absolutely would've built the cabin." She smiles and leaves. Thirty-love, dude. Consider yourself spanked. He smiles to himself, and thinks about how in fifteen years he's so going to make his move. Once the war's over, and Nicky's grown, and Hera, and he has enough time, he's so going to get laid. Or ask to hold her hand, or accompany her in a turn around the garden, or something.