Alone again; she's danced herself to the bar again. Bill dares Saul to say he'd do the same, in Bill's position. Take a desk job, leave the stars behind. Become civilian. Saul's eyes travel the landscapes of flesh, a smile on his face saying this is still light conversation. They both know it's not. "I want to hear it come out of your mouth," Bill demands. "Say it!" Tell me you could let all that go, and settle in your house with Ellen, and leave it all behind. How can you ask me to, when you wouldn't do the same? Saul is blinded, attention caught, staring up at the stripper. A tiny grin plays along his mouth as he ignores the question, and Bill laughs at him. They both know it; they are soldiers. Bravado born of Caprica City by night, saying they can walk up to the line at the end of the world and step over it. Two more shots, and Saul crows again.
Zak is thoroughly finished. Kara and Lee carry him to the couch. His heart is big; he's the baby of the family. They carry him on their shoulders like the dead. "I love you guys!" he says, as Zaks always do. This has happened before and it'll happen again. "Because you guys are my family." He takes a header into the couch, speaking muffled as they try to arrange him: "I love you, brother." Lee calls him "big boy," adorably; they're drunk too. Kara falls on the couch trying to lift his legs, and is pinned. Lee sets her free.
"Never could hold his liquor," Lee says, thinking of Mother. Wondering if Kara's seen this before, or he needs to apologize. He doesn't know her yet. The things that aren't important, he doesn't know them. "Unlike his brother!" she laughs, and he nods. He's still standing, after all. So is she.
Months, years from now, Gianne will come to him, bearing his child, wearing his ring, and he will push her away, and he will run. Like a bird, battering itself against the glass, twisting in fear of something he can't name. He won't see her, or speak to her, ever again. The world will end first. This is the story of parents and their children, speaking across unimaginable gaps: pushing with one hand and pulling with the other. "Hey, I'm still standing," Lee says, and Kara grabs his shoulders, grinning in his face. "Which means...? It's time for shots!" She beeps his nose, the old girlfriend-stealer, and fetches shot glasses.
Bill's vomiting, sitting in the gutter, wearing a civilian suit. It's all over him; he leans back against the cold, hard world as though it cradles him. He wipes a hand across his face and looks up, from the gutter to the stars. His vision clears and he can see them, in the black of Caprica by night: home. Whatever drives a man to them, it calls to him now. They are so lovely he laughs at them. And they laugh back.