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Alcohol [Open]
May. 12th, 2012 05:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nomoremrnicegaiusGaius Baltar is almost certainly drunk.
It's obvious from just a glance at the man. He's sitting, slightly slouched alone in the recreation room. His coat is hung over the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. For a man of such incredible hubris, such slovenliness seems downright uncharacteristic; he always prided himself on looking like he had just stepped out of an advertisement. Even when he was stuck wearing the standard Prosperina uniform of black t-shirt, black jacket, and grey slacks, he still managed to make do with what he had.
Which is more than what could be said for most of the station's denizens. Gaius frowns down at his glass, filled with amber liquid and downs the contents in one go. He reaches out for the bottle on the table and fills it up again, Six looking down at him in disapproval.
She's wearing the red dress today. His favorite.
"Why do you do this to yourself, Gaius?" she asks.
"Shouldn't you know?" Gaius counters. "You said before that you knew everything about me."
Six's patience is quickly wearing thin and he knows it. But unlike the many, many other times her eyes flared with anger, he finds that he doesn't care. One of the many small blessings of alcohol. "Humor me," she says, sharply.
"I don't think I want to," he says petulantly, lifting the glass to his lips.
Six knocks the glass from his hand in one sharp strike.
"What did you do that for?!" Gaius complains, jumping to his feet. His clothes are drenched from the splatter; glass shards litter the floor next to him.
Six folds her arms over her chest. "What is wrong with you, Gaius?"
"What isn't wrong with me?" He shoots back at her. "I have you here, knocking glasses out of my hand and I'm still not even sure what you are--"
Six interrupts him before he can say anything more. "I'm an angel of God sent here to guide you."
"Yes, that," he snips, picking up the glass shards one-by-one to set them on table. "An angel. And if this God is as all-knowing as his believers profess him to be, why don't you have the slightest idea what we're doing aboard this station?"
Six looks down at him and he can tell from just a glance at her face that she's on the verge of committing an overwhelming act of violence. Gaius looks back down at the shards and begins picking them up, all the while knowing that his lack of a reaction will only serve to anger her more.
He hears the steady click-clack of her stilettos as she approaches him from behind. Then suddenly, she yanks his head back by his hair. Gaius lets out a reflexive yelp of pain. She doesn't let go.
"You will listen to what I have to say." She relinquishes her grasp on his locks.
He knows he should shut up now and nod his head even if he doesn't agree with her in the least. But the words leave his mouth before he can stop them from surging forward. "Yes, just like I listened to what Caprica had to say. Look at how well that turned out."
"I'm not Caprica," she says, an underlying menace in her tone.
There's a familiar whir at the door as it opens. It's the only thing that keeps Gaius from arguing further.
He continues gathering the pieces in silence.
It's obvious from just a glance at the man. He's sitting, slightly slouched alone in the recreation room. His coat is hung over the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. For a man of such incredible hubris, such slovenliness seems downright uncharacteristic; he always prided himself on looking like he had just stepped out of an advertisement. Even when he was stuck wearing the standard Prosperina uniform of black t-shirt, black jacket, and grey slacks, he still managed to make do with what he had.
Which is more than what could be said for most of the station's denizens. Gaius frowns down at his glass, filled with amber liquid and downs the contents in one go. He reaches out for the bottle on the table and fills it up again, Six looking down at him in disapproval.
She's wearing the red dress today. His favorite.
"Why do you do this to yourself, Gaius?" she asks.
"Shouldn't you know?" Gaius counters. "You said before that you knew everything about me."
Six's patience is quickly wearing thin and he knows it. But unlike the many, many other times her eyes flared with anger, he finds that he doesn't care. One of the many small blessings of alcohol. "Humor me," she says, sharply.
"I don't think I want to," he says petulantly, lifting the glass to his lips.
Six knocks the glass from his hand in one sharp strike.
"What did you do that for?!" Gaius complains, jumping to his feet. His clothes are drenched from the splatter; glass shards litter the floor next to him.
Six folds her arms over her chest. "What is wrong with you, Gaius?"
"What isn't wrong with me?" He shoots back at her. "I have you here, knocking glasses out of my hand and I'm still not even sure what you are--"
Six interrupts him before he can say anything more. "I'm an angel of God sent here to guide you."
"Yes, that," he snips, picking up the glass shards one-by-one to set them on table. "An angel. And if this God is as all-knowing as his believers profess him to be, why don't you have the slightest idea what we're doing aboard this station?"
Six looks down at him and he can tell from just a glance at her face that she's on the verge of committing an overwhelming act of violence. Gaius looks back down at the shards and begins picking them up, all the while knowing that his lack of a reaction will only serve to anger her more.
He hears the steady click-clack of her stilettos as she approaches him from behind. Then suddenly, she yanks his head back by his hair. Gaius lets out a reflexive yelp of pain. She doesn't let go.
"You will listen to what I have to say." She relinquishes her grasp on his locks.
He knows he should shut up now and nod his head even if he doesn't agree with her in the least. But the words leave his mouth before he can stop them from surging forward. "Yes, just like I listened to what Caprica had to say. Look at how well that turned out."
"I'm not Caprica," she says, an underlying menace in her tone.
There's a familiar whir at the door as it opens. It's the only thing that keeps Gaius from arguing further.
He continues gathering the pieces in silence.