Three sees Doc Cottle's mobile unit and stops to pet Jake. They have a crazy little conversation -- "You don't care who I am, do ya? All God's creatures in your eyes." -- and Doc Cottle wanders out to wonder why the leader of the fascist regime is talking theology with the dog. "Can't sleep?" Three claims bad dreams, and Cottle admits he didn't even know "you people" had dreams. That's my Cottle! She throws her shoulders back. "Oh, sure. Everybody dreams, Doc." She looks at his bloody smock and asks if it's human or Cylon blood. "Cylon. One of the Fives got pretty shot up today by the insurgents. But he's gonna make it." Three tilts her head. "You could've let him suffer," but that's not Cottle's steeze, of course. She smiles. "What about the baby? Sharon's baby Hera. When that child died on Galactica, why'd you cremate the body? It's the first Cylon-human hybrid, and you threw it in the incinerator?" Like she's skewering him. He shrugs and says a list of words that spell more controversy: "It wasn't my decision. That was the President's call. I was just following orders." Yikes! She drags her fingers through the blood, prodding him. "That's a very funny thing. 'Cause this stuff all looks the same." Crazy! She's crazy! Or maybe she's turning sane, I can't tell anymore. I sure like her, though. Cottle takes off and Three heads back home.