[Kara recognizes the special brand of laughter offered by those who’ve had the shit beat outta them; it brings back harsh memories for her, thudding heart and words about Her dripping hot acid down her spine and fingers around her throat. She sees the dried blood on this kid’s face and recalls wiping the dried red off her neck later, after he was gone, just before she prayed for--
She rolls her shoulders back, hoping she pulls off the ‘captain-ly, authoritatively readjusting in MY frakkin’ throne, excuse you’ act, as she pulls herself out of the threat of a flood of other, more unpleasant, memories, refocusing on the task at hand. She cocks her head, feigning concern, eyebrows furrowed.]
No one’s coming for you, really? Isn’t that a little pessimistic for someone your age?
[She frowns a little; could it be--no. No, she thinks, pushing the thought down along with the bile at the base of her throat. He’s not even close to her (not to be confused with Her) age, but still ever since, ever since there’s the possibility she might have a-- --if they’d been telling the truth, if the scar on her abdomen really is a testament to--
Just talk, a voice in the back of her mind nags, then you’ll get to eat, how hard is that??; she chokes it back with a bite to the inside of her cheek.]
All you can think about is food. Boring. No wonder you’re hungry if you were on rations, I guess. I know enough about the Cylons to know they program you to need food. I don’t get it, why bother?
[Blowing up innocent-- if you guys’re into the business of--
The words ring loud and clear in Kara’s ears and she doesn’t feel the thought recognition form before she hears her hand slam down, palm flat and fingers splayed, fingers that have danced along ivory and contrasting ebony alike, across muscled backs and countless star charts and dipped in paint and that are itching to be around Duo Maxwell’s throat. When she speaks her voice is tight, carefully measured and thus somehow much deadlier than the usual smirky, sarcastic banter.
She leans forward, on both hands now, eyes blazing, like the angel of God that He spoke of, only angrier.]
They really brainwashed you good, didn’t they? You wanna know what I know? I know that if you were a colonist you sure as hell wouldn’t dare speak those words.
My crew’ve more guts than you’ll have in your entire being, little boy. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to test me first.
poots.......leng..th...
She rolls her shoulders back, hoping she pulls off the ‘captain-ly, authoritatively readjusting in MY frakkin’ throne, excuse you’ act, as she pulls herself out of the threat of a flood of other, more unpleasant, memories, refocusing on the task at hand. She cocks her head, feigning concern, eyebrows furrowed.]
No one’s coming for you, really? Isn’t that a little pessimistic for someone your age?
[She frowns a little; could it be--no. No, she thinks, pushing the thought down along with the bile at the base of her throat. He’s not even close to her (not to be confused with Her) age, but still ever since, ever since there’s the possibility she might have a--
--if they’d been telling the truth, if the scar on her abdomen really is a testament to--
Just talk, a voice in the back of her mind nags, then you’ll get to eat, how hard is that??; she chokes it back with a bite to the inside of her cheek.]
All you can think about is food. Boring. No wonder you’re hungry if you were on rations, I guess. I know enough about the Cylons to know they program you to need food. I don’t get it, why bother?
[Blowing up innocent--
if you guys’re into the business of--
The words ring loud and clear in Kara’s ears and she doesn’t feel the thought recognition form before she hears her hand slam down, palm flat and fingers splayed, fingers that have danced along ivory and contrasting ebony alike, across muscled backs and countless star charts and dipped in paint and that are itching to be around Duo Maxwell’s throat. When she speaks her voice is tight, carefully measured and thus somehow much deadlier than the usual smirky, sarcastic banter.
She leans forward, on both hands now, eyes blazing, like the angel of God that He spoke of, only angrier.]
They really brainwashed you good, didn’t they? You wanna know what I know? I know that if you were a colonist you sure as hell wouldn’t dare speak those words.
My crew’ve more guts than you’ll have in your entire being, little boy. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to test me first.