"Oh, yeah, yeah," he nods. He knows he's beautiful, and is prepared to be graceful no matter what his follower says next. "Oh, thank you, yeah," like she's asking for his autograph. "Not some hollow ritual," she explains: that's the beauty of his prayer. The way it seemed like a duet between entities, a Sonata for Supplicants: "It's as if the Gods are right here beside you." With Six gone for a sec, chased into the shadows, he can really notice how hot Tracey is. And she's well hot. It's just that when she prays, to the Gods, she feels all...empty. Six watches, and the line of her suit, the cut of her hem and her unblinking gaze, all these tell you we're at one of those points, like when Three had him in the chair, that will decide everything. "Do you? That's a shame, isn't it?" All empty like that, well, what can we do about that? Gaius is very charming when he wants to be.
"Her Gods are false," Six spits, bathed in light. "Tell her." He does. "If you feel empty when you pray to Zeus or Poseidon or Aphrodite, it's because it is empty. It's a totally empty experience." She touches his face, unbuttons his shirt, and he starts stumbling over his boilerplate: "They're...they're not real. They've been promulgated by...a ruling elite...uh...to stop you from learning the truth." (Gods, how long has it been? Since the Basestar! That was so long ago! Before the Eye and the Rapture, even. Everything on the whole frakking show was different the last time Gaius Baltar got laid.) "And what truth is that?" asks Tracey: a very good question. And one which Gaius suddenly can't answer. He looks past her, at Six, and she thunders, exasperated: "There's only one God."
"In a nutshell," he continues, "That's the truth." She responds by popping her own shirt open. "We're alone here, aren't we? The others aren't coming back soon? And the door's locked?" She grins and nods. Demand anything. "All right, good." She takes his hands, and places them on her breasts. "Can you feel God's presence?" And you know, he says, he can. And so can Tracey. And those two lonely souls make love, in the presence of God, and on the wall there's a picture of Gaius Baltar, on a cardboard star, surrounded by candles and incense and cheap beads strewn and hung, and all around them there's just silence.
Is that Kara is not a Cylon, which Lee totally didn't even believe, and Roslin still does believe. Bill can't explain, about the miracles and Orpheus and the hole in him from last time, so he just says sadly that they had to be sure. Roslin is still on her whole thing about how Kara is automatically a Cylon, which is pragmatic since they saw her explode and then reappear six months later. Which would be correct, +/- a standard deviation or six, but when her death comes knocking Laura Roslin starts rounding down.