"I ran... again. I disappeared in the nick of time... Again." Lida smiles sweetly and assures him, with that smile the Sixes do when explaining human brain chemistry to humans, that fear makes people behave differently. "I didn't run out of fear. Not this time, anyway. I ran away from those people. God, those people. I've got a kind of following on Galactica, like a fan club? Publicly I humor them..." She smiles. "Privately, I scorned their provincial intellects. Their unfailing willingness to make me feel better." Her smile falls for a second, because he just called her a retard. That's literally what he did:

Lida: "I want to make you feel better."
Gaius: "Thanks. On another note, though, you know who fucking sucks? People who want to make me feel better. They are so stupid and soulless and beneath me. Know what I mean?"

Lida: "Thank God you're cute. You know I snap necks, right? Just like this. Don't even have to think about it. Just click, snap and you're done. So you wanna run that the motherfuck by me again?"
Gaius: "Sorry, what? I wasn't listening. I just realized my whole pathology is pathetically Peter Pan and I only want what I can't have, and then I don't want it anymore once I get it, so I'm constantly begging for attention and love from the people least likely to give it, like Laura Roslin and that. I'm just repeating the neurotic patterns of my unhappy childhood and constantly working toward getting the useless acceptance and approval of people I know for a fact are beneath me. See, like even now: the only friend I have in the universe is Galen Tyrol, and he thinks I'm just ridiculous, and I think he's real dumb, but we love each other. Silently, from across the room, without ever talking about it: that's what I'm subsisting on these days. That, and rusty trombones from batshit cult members. It's rough."