sometimes i get nervous when i see an open door

[egodefence]

Who: Gaius Baltar and You!
What: He's taking it well.
Where: Either in Mog Hill or not very far from it.
When: Coardi morning. Or, you know, whenever.
Notes: I'd like to get him around about so if this first set up is tagged into, shout at me if you'd like to do things and I can set up a thread!
Warnings: Crying, mainly.

The appeal of an open sky had long since lost its shine after the first few months on solid ground.

But this is different. A functional city, new faces that glance by him without recognition. Animals, economy, the simple sight of a carriage wheel trundling over wet cobblestone. The weather is warm and dry. Standing on the curb a stone's throw from the edge of the Valhalla Inn is Gaius Baltar, who -- while not the most poetic of human beings -- is in awe. Awe in the traditional sense, the kind that is on the verge of teary-eyed terror. It hadn't even occurred to him to do anything with his CiD than check it -- its content was, of course, a lie, and he'd spent the next few hours of his imprisonment in the green tiled room simply curled up in crustaceous defensiveness in the corner and waiting to see what the Cylons would do next.

He has some things in his hand. A cardboard box with some sort of branding is held loosely at his side, and the infamous brochure clutched in his other fist, significantly crumpled. Both of these things are ignored after having been obsessed over prior to now as he regards the street without any idea of what to do.

But he starts walking.

And eventually sits down when he's put a little distance between where he began and now without any real clear idea of where he is, just that there was an empty bench and now it is his. The brochure is folded with slightly trembling fingers and pocketed in the inner of his jacket, before he sets the box in his lap, opens it, and extracts one dark coloured cigarette. Gaius, dressed as he is in his slightly unwashed business suit, his glasses sitting low on his nose and hair in worried, greasy tangles, realises he doesn't have a lighter on him.

"Oh gods," is pure, exasperated despair, landing his face in his hands.

Comments

[egodefence]

Blank stare, and then cue response; Gaius ducks a hand into his jacket and pulls out the little device he'd sort of only fleetingly explored while locked in the room, until general panic had rendered him incapable of doing much but going fetal in the corner. Dignity. Now he looks at it and prods with a thumb for its functions as she explains them -- a map, a rail system. A glance up at her when she waits for reaction probably does not indicate that Gaius catches her meaning at all, simply listening.

That, or maybe he's used to that sort of surveillance. The light from the screen shuts down as he turns it off again, and she can probably sense, in part, his reluctant recognition that he's going to have to engage a little with this place. If he's ever going home, it won't be today.

"No. No, wouldn't make for a very good start, now would it, first evening in a real city. I do sleep," he adds, belatedly snagging onto 'whatever you do'. He's taking no assumption for granted anymore. "Theoretically, I do that on occasion."

[lupa]

"Theoretically," she repeats, with a grin that is probably not appropriate for the situation. "Well. If you feel like testing that theory, there's a boarding house out in Aspic which has all the benefits of not being the Valhalla and isn't a complete shithole or likely to drain your funds too much. The woman who runs it is in the same cohort as me and not insane, and it smells alright."

GG ponders for a moment when dealing with people in the cohort became preferable to dealing with others- God knows they're not all sweetness and light. It might be the same protective instinct that led her to rip people to shreds for the sake of people she barely knew back at home, before, when the world had ended or was ending around her. Perhaps it's just that she can keep track of the people she can contact. Or maybe it's this place getting to her, marking out the same old us and them and erecting barriers in her mind, reminding her constantly to keep her head down and tread carefully.

An unpleasant thought.

[egodefence]

He isn't sure how well he'll do tonight at it. Sleeping. Brain chemistry and medication and high stress levels and the fact that Gaius is not actually a stable person anyway will probably conspire against him, but then again, not-sleeping in the comfort of a bed is better than on the curb. Gaius listens, and nods, and stops nodding at 'smells alright' because that hadn't, you know, been a concern up until this point, but that certainly sounds more of a help than a hindrance?

"I see. Well, that all sounds-- good. Adequate, I mean, for the moment." Aspic. Aspic. Gaius reluctantly brings out his CiD again to see if he can identify such a place. As he does so; "Cohort, that's-- the, er, people who've come through recently? CeidaryBlue something something numbers."

[lupa]

"Ah, snap." She's not surprised to hear they're in the same cohort- she's heard, after all, that all the new arrivals get put in the same one- but then this is Baedal, and the people telling her that have been officials of Baedal and people carrying their message and it is never wise to assume. She has no idea why they would lie about that, of course. She has no idea why Baedal kidnapped her and her friends, either. She has no idea about a lot of things.

"That's us. I'm on there somewhere-- Oh. GG. GG Giordano." That's an afterthought, hasty; she's just now remembered that names are good, people like names.

(She's terrible with them; Gaius, in her mind, will probably never be Gaius but rather a collection of scents, cigarette smoke and anxiety, flickering memories of body language, represented in a way she can't put words to).

[egodefence]

"Oh." Names are good. Gaius brings his hand up like he might offer it to shake, but it seems a bit-- formal and out of tone with the circumstance, and he knows he's just defaulting to familiar motions, so it doesn't quite finish. Fingers curl into palm, retract back into personal space. "Nice to meet you. I'm Gaius. Or. Dr. Gaius Baltar."

He swallows, another nervous glance cast about, back to her, then back to bringing up the map on his CiD. "Then you've not been here long. By that-- by that logic."

[lupa]

"Couple months," she says- her vagueness gives the impression of defensiveness, an instinctive dislike of giving away too many details, as innocent as they may be. (Nothing's innocent here). "There are people in the cohort who've been here much longer- they say it's a new cohort still, so I don't know how long the other ones have been around. People have had kids, their kids have had kids- uh, not in this cohort, I mean in others, mainly, you get these second and third-gen people who've never lived anywhere but Baedal. Still. I'm not an expert in this place, I'm just, ah." She looks around, the movement of her head sharp, her grin sharp, a lot of things sharp. "Convenient." That is, she's the only one around.