"Look, it knows me. It trusts me." Laura's not interested. "I think... I think it even likes me, because I... I spent some time at the foot of this... tub..." Gaius says, performing a little show for nobody interested, because human psychology is based on projection and Gaius has always needed the idea of an audience more than the audience itself. Even after Galen took his hand, he's like this.
Laura, fascinated: "You're getting information from this liquid?" Twinset nods. "The Hybrid is disorganized, it's panicking. I don't know why." And as they ignore him, Gaius kneels, and treats her like a person. Focuses on her entirely. The triumph and the tragedy of Gaius Baltar is that he's not an obstinate tin soldier: he's pliant, for good or ill. He loves completely when he loves, and forgets it when he doesn't. He is a fuckup, to be sure, but he's closer to opening the door than anybody else, because he got his doors blown out. And they weren't locked too securely to begin with. (But have you met my friends Kara and Leoben? They're closer to the Hybrid than anybody else, and...) "Um, tell me. Why are you jumping the ship?"
"The Six. The Six who went among the makers is no longer: End of line. Back in the stream that feeds the ocean that feeds the stream..."
Twinset explains that Natalie, thus, is hurt or killed, and that's the source of the Hybrid's panic. Laura's all Laura: "So she's upset. Okay, fine. Can you... Calm her down? Can you tell her to jump back?" Twinset Eight's kind of impatient, because part of a hive culture is that each part does its thing: "It doesn't work like that. She makes her own decisions." No aspiration, plenty of voice. Especially today. The prophets aboard stare; they don't like that. If God starts talking, we won't need prophets. Might as well produce a Vulgate Bible, leave the indulgences and Latin behind. Might as well break that golden arrow into 39,673 pieces. This is all that's being asked of the Cylon, after all: stop thinking that God is something you can buy, or sell, or make, or have. Stop pretending God is the last thing you earn, and not the first. Step right up and take your piece, and fly.
If the Anointed One and the Dying Leader have to stand by and watch the Hybrid make her own decisions, well, fuck that. We'll kneel and yell and be adorable, but we won't ever be pliant enough to admit that 1-800 hotlines are something anybody can call. And if you don't get it, Hybrid just got Roslin on your ass: "And we can't unplug her, because now she's wired herself into life support." Nice! Aspiration and breath together. Finally the Hybrid gets it going, tells them something we've known all along. When you're scared, that's the amygdala taking over, shouting at you to change something, you're in terrible danger, keep moving. But there's also the prefrontal cortex, saying, "You're safe. It's okay. It's going to be all right." It's hard to be both at once.