As they head into their quarters, Bill muses whether Gaius would be willing to stay in lockdown indefinitely, "for his own safety," and Laura laughs. "And make a martyr out of him? No way. Those girly, groupie, sex-whatever-they-are, they already think he's a God." So then, kick him off Galactica? No other ship will have him. "No, I want him close," says Laura. Thank God or the Lords for finally bringing Laura back to us. She's still doing the same shit, but it makes so much sense this week. I never stopped loving her, but I missed liking her. She makes more sense than anybody but her rapidly decaying Chief of Staff this week, as it's meant to be. Nobody makes more sense than Laura Roslin. She thinks a bit, there in their home at the end of the world, and cocks her head. "I'm going to the brig." Bill can't believe she really wants to see him, but Laura cocks her head cutely: "I want him to see me."
Beautiful boys need their sleep. Even Zeus has gotten slapped a few times too early in the morning, and he wasn't doing shit like pulling out their pubes one at a time in order to illustrate some creepy fucking made-up Dark Phoenix Cylon 101 shit. So we can't blame Gaius for getting all the sleep he can, because he has had a rough damn day. But elsewhere, rooms or walls away, a woman who thinks of him when she's not sleeping is facing the wall, waiting for her visitor. And when he comes, she doesn't turn around. "Oh, we didn't even make it to tomorrow, did we?" Saul is disgusted by himself for returning, for asking, for looking and watching, for hoping for one more beautiful vision or nightmare, for watching himself pull out one hair at a time, spinning wishes to pretending. For asking a murderer how best to forget murder. "You asked what I want. I want to know how it feels to have killed billions of human beings, to have all that blood on your hands. Think it through. Because that's what I want."