Galactica. Team Apollo bustles down a corridor and shines their flashlights around in a confusing way. Then they stop to look at the dead bodies on the floor. We're gonna need a smaller whiteboard. Apollo gives a morale-boosting "go go go," and they move on toward the small arms locker. Throughout the scene, there's a clang-clang of robot footsteps nearby. I think. Or else it's the radiator. Apollo pulls the door open as everyone else readies their guns. Apparently they haven't yet noticed that the Cylons aren't particularly into skulking. They shine their flashlights into the locker, and a man inside holds up his hands and whines, "Don't shoot, I'm human!" Kat identifies the guy as "Jammer," and Apollo tells Kat to find the explosive rounds while he chats with Jammer. Jammer stammers (hee) that he was just looking for a place to hide. Apollo insists, against all available evidence, that Jammer will be fine. Kat interrupts, and silently shows Apollo a box containing six shells. One of the Marines guesses that other fire teams already came by looking for explosive rounds. Apollo says, "Six rounds. There are five of us." He pauses for moment to work out the math, and finally declares that he'll take two rounds, and everyone else gets one. Jammer's eager to let someone else take his round, saying, "I'm just a knuckle-dragger here. I don't know how to fight Centurions. I don't know the first thing about fighting Centurions!" Thank you, Prissy. Apollo and Kat just kinda stare at Jammer for a second, and then they move out.
Caprica. Helo and Starbuck shoot the lock off the door of Starbuck's apartment, and of course she quips about forgetting her house keys. They enter, and Starbuck's apartment turns out to be a weird basement loft-ish space, if that makes any sense. There are canvases littering the floor, and some images on the wall that don't merit the term "mural." There's also some unfortunate poetry scrawled on the wall in black paint. As Starbuck begins rummaging through the litter on the coffee table, Helo eyes the bad artwork and confirms that Starbuck painted all the stuff. He seems to be impressed. Well, he's not the brightest. Starbuck goes on searching, while Helo wanders into the kitchen and, presumably operating on autopilot, opens the fridge. He quickly slams it closed while covering his nose. Starbuck digs up a mini CD, pops it into a machine, and we hear a Philip Glass piano composition playing. She closes her eyes and actually relaxes for a second, until Helo comes over to ask how she got the power on. Starbuck duhs, "Batteries." She adds, "Kept turning off the power. Something about not paying a bill." Yes, Starbuck, you're quite the bad-ass. Helo says, of the music, "That is definitely not you." I'm not sure if he means that it's not her playing, or if it's not her kind of music. She pulls off her jacket stiffly and says, "It's my dad." I remain unclear as to what they mean, but in the commentary Moore clarifies that it's supposed to be her father performing the piece. Helo announces that he's found one package of noodles, and gripes, "You don't believe in groceries?" Starbuck gives him a dirty look and puts on a different, beat-up jacket. She gingerly sits down on the couch, and Helo follows her lead and settles into an armchair. Starbuck digs through the rubble on the table some more, and smirks as she pulls out a cigar. As she lights up, she monologues about how shitty the apartment was, and how she didn't really miss it after the Cylon attack. She concludes, "Everyone I know is fighting to get back what they had, and I'm fighting 'cause I don't know how to do anything else." You also seem to like it, Starbuck. Helo stares at her sleepily, perhaps wondering if the Cylon was better company. They settle in, exhausted, and I can't help thinking how funny it would be if they both fall asleep, and Starbuck's cigar sets the whole place on fire.