Apollo walks down a long corridor to Fisk's quarters on the Pegasus, where Marines are standing guard. There's a large amount of blood on Fisk's coffee table, which Apollo duly notes before continuing his investigation. He finds a lot of luxury items, including several boxes of cigars from Caprica, and a chest filled with lots of shiny expensive baubles. There's a bracelet he finds particularly interesting -- is it magic? Is it a magic bracelet? Don't tell Ellen Tigh! She loves those. From inside, he can hear Baltar demanding to be let into the room. Apollo pockets the magic bracelet and listens to Baltar doing the usual ("Do you know who I am? I am the Vice-President of the Colonies!") and then, on the door opening, being clearly flummoxed and not particularly happy to see Captain Adama standing inside. "Let him in," says Lee, and Baltar pushes inside, getting kind of amazingly bitchy and nasty: "They were going to let me in." Yes, as a private investigator, I could deduce that from your futile whining. Idiot. Baltar finally notices the totally intense blood everywhere and freaks out. It takes Apollo a while to get the concept of Fisk's murder through Baltar's crazy head. Apollo notes the abundance of Caprican cigars and asks Baltar if they aren't his brand. Baltar's usual poker face -- gobsmacked guilt, terror, paranoia a dull child would flag as weird -- is the response.
Six appears. "Careful, Gaius. You've bought yourself some good will by saving Roslin, but it's fading. Their old suspicions are re-emerging." There's wacky cross-talk, as usual, but even more awkward and counter-intuitive: "What are you doing here...Captain?" Apollo considers the fact that it's even more a valid question for Baltar. Six smiles creepily at Lee as Baltar covers about as well as usual, flipping immediately into "Are you interrogating me?" mode. Sigh. Maybe you could somehow act more paranoid and suspicious, dickweed? Apollo: "This isn't a diplomatic exercise. A man was butchered. His head was practically severed from his body with piano wire." Six slithers around the room, Lee, Baltar: "You're Vice-President of the Fleet. Why are you acting like a child with your hand in the cookie jar, hmm?" Fuckin' word. Six adds, "I wonder what she would say, if she saw you like this." Seriously. Gina's like the only person who doesn't automatically expect this squirrelly, off-putting bullshit from him. Baltar smiles smarmily: "You know, I can't believe it's even necessary for me to explain myself to you..." Way to smooth it over, you fool. Apollo's not buying this mealy-mouthed crap, so Baltar floats the truth: that Fisk had reservations about the Trade Policy stuff, plus a lie: that Baltar was there in his capacity as Veep to assuage him. Smart. I will give him that. Apollo's like, "Fisk was dirty as hell; I'm sure he did have 'reservations.'" They get all in each other's faces and there's another invisible woman in the room, for a second, and her name is Kara Thrace. They mumble worthless parting shots ("I'm sure I can rustle up an alibi, prick" and "Yeah, enjoy the cigars, jackass") but Apollo wins, ordering the Marines outside to escort Baltar back to his ship. Who knows what horrible things he and Fisk were going to talk about -- but then, we never will.