Caprica worries now, all the time. Think about it. I've always thought the 268's sudden willingness to get the hell out of Dodge makes sense, because humans are unpredictable at best, but especially Caprica. She's got the only Cylon baby ever, and people just keep punching her in it or tying her up or stealing her babydaddy from beyond the grave or putting her in jail. No wonder she assumes it's all about her; it usually is, in some way. She thanks Laura for her kindness and tries to waddle quickly away, but Laura's not having it. She gets all conspiratorial and creepy, and Caprica settles in for the long haul. "Caprica, sometimes I think about the visions that we shared, and the ... talk we had." Caprica's like, "Yeah, I haven't had any of those, so I guess there's nothing for us to talk about. Gotta run." They talk about how Laura hasn't either, and Caprica notes that they went away around the same time she got pregnant.
(Which is very interesting, isn't it? If Nicky's the Shape Of Things Too Dumb, and Hera's got her whole thing going on, doesn't that make Liam pretty much the Anti-Hera? Like, a really bad idea? Is it possible that simply by existing, he's like some kind of chronal parasite that destroys the timeline that Hera symbolizes or something? Maybe it's too much X-Men comics as a child or something, but that makes total sense to me, and it means when he dies we'll see the Opera House again immediately. Which is a bummer because I love Caprica, but also because obviously he has to die at some point, given her neck-snapping activities four years ago, but this just piles up the reasons. Because the horrible truth is that Liam's death is her Galactica: he can't exist in this world any more than Cally could, and Caprica's buying into her own/Tory's whole thing about the Cylon nation even as it's going to obvious shit all around them. It would answer every question Caprica has, tie everything into a neat bow, give her redemption and salvation, wipe her slate clean. And I don't know if you've ever seen this show, but: not happening.)
"Oh, that never occurred to me," Laura says, falling into her intellectual mode, wondering about destinies and grace and the future and shit, leaving Caprica behind, forgetting the entire point of this meeting -- reconnecting with her and gaining an ally against Ellen -- because once again Laura's being handed half-assed glimpses of the future. "Are you saying that this ch..." she starts, and cuts herself off, because there's got to be a less-rude way to say it. Caprica, eyes wide with just how bitchy Laura can be when she's forgotten that she's speaking to a person, asks her what on earth she might mean. Six, man I love Sixes. They are like Heinlein's ultimate Competent Man that can change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, all that stuff, but ... crossed with Martha Stewart. Like, nobody is as classy or polite as a Six, even when they're stealing your ovaries or gunning you down in a boardroom massacre, or when you're beating the hell out of them and leaving them in the brig for months on end. Six will always give you the option of not being a dick about it.