The Chief hovers over Laura as she reads through Sharon's extradition papers, begging her to stop, "as a personal favor." She hums, one of the million hums she makes instead of words: "Don't do that, Chief. Personal feelings are what Sharon Valerii preys upon, you know that. Better than any of us. You need to clear your head." She picks up her pen and he begs her to stop, let it ride, let Boomer rot in the brig, but she's not having it. This is the price of politics, which are always personal: "She is a danger in the brig, out of the brig. A danger to us, a danger to our Cylon allies." He nearly weeps; Bill can't meet his eyes. But Laura can. Cold as ice, because she must be. For the same reason you don't argue with a four-year-old or a widow in his grief, this isn't a conversation they can have. So she takes the hit, lets herself be the bad guy once again, takes up her regal raiment and looks him dead in the eyes, shaking her head in his marvelous face. "We're done here, Chief. You're dismissed." He leaves with tears in his eyes, as Sonja steps forward for the papers. Outside, he turns as though to plead again, stands in place with the guard watching, and heads away.

On the deck there's that girl again. Not a special girl, just an Eight like any other Eight. Only recently a person. Free to walk around, without ever having known love. Without ever having paid a single price. Her face is an insult. He picks a wrench up, turns a piece of equipment up, just enough to break the circuit, and in the dark he takes her down.