milliways_bar | (no subject)

Gaeta wasn't expecting to find a door this soon. Part of him, despite knowing (and knowing of) several people from Galactica who'd successfully reached Milliways, may have even expected that he wouldn't find a door at all after leaving Colonial One.

That could account for a lot: the way the door rocks backward with the full weight of Gaeta's shoulder behind it, the galley tray in his hand, the more casual civilian clothes (gone is the suit; gone, too, are the layers of someone living in a cold climate), the mildly dumbfounded expression as he stares around the room. After a moment, he heaves a sigh and makes for the nearest open seat -- in this case, one at the bar. His tray drops onto the bartop with an unceremonious clatter.

"Can I please at least finish my frakking dinner first?" he asks a beat later, too tired for the curse to carry any real heat. He gets no reply except a second napkin with a long string of zzzzzzzs scrawled across it, and so, with a quiet exhalation of, "Fine," he gets up and makes his way around the bar.

Eventually:

HAPPY HOUR
Hot Lunch
Coffee 43
After Dinner Mint

EXHIBIT A: A meal from Galactica's galley.
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(Here sits his unfinished dinner beneath the chalkboard.)

Offer suggestions to make it edible & drink half price.

It looks, for the record, like globs of something that might be mashed potato substitute, a bowl of wilted and depressed-looking greens, and a sickly-colored soup.

[tinytag: trudy chacon]

[OOC: ffffff. My body does not want to respond to pithy back room threats, alas; I am crashing and crashing hard. Mea culpa for bailing an hour early -- however, new tags are very much welcomed, and all slowtimes will be picked up!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes?"

Her voice is softer, she just worries about him since he carries far too much on his shoulders.

Gods, he feels foolish for asking the question.

(maybe you'll be able to save more of them than the first time through)

And yet.

"Is there anything I could have done differently?" He doesn't look up. "To make it better?"

"Oh child, I'm not sure. Trust your instincts if something feels wrong and speak up as much as you can. Your heart's so big, but you're scared too. I wish I could find you a place where you'll flourish."

The next smile wobbles a little, as he looks up.

"I'm all right with just surviving."

It's better than twenty billion others got.

She reaches over to squeeze his arm,

"I know you are, but that doesn't mean that I can't wish you were doing more."

"I know," he whispers.

It's something he wishes for, too.

There's just not much point to it; you have to work with what you have, and no more.

"Use your space and time here to allow yourself to live. Come visit me again."

A deep breath, steadying himself.

"I will," he says, and reaches to cover her hand in a brief squeeze. "Once I'm done with the comm systems. I'll, ah, probably need the break."

And as a civilian, he's not duty-bound to stay on Galactica any more.

"You will and I'll teach you how to bake."

"...Anything in particular?"

"What's your favorite thing to eat?"

"Anything not that," he emphasizes, pointing his spoon toward the tray.

In some areas, Gaeta is not the master of details or specifics.

"Your favorite dessert as a child."

Demeter is going to be stubborn since he must have one.

He does; it just takes a few seconds longer for him to decide on it.

"This...I guess it was kind of like berry cobbler?" he offers, a touch unsure. "It had a lot of cinnamon and sugar on top."

Which is downright decadent by humanity's standards nowadays.

"Any particular sort of berry?"

"There were a lot of different varieties. Four or five at least, I think."

...Godsdammit, he really is starting to get hungry now. (Well played, Demeter.)

Gaeta spoons up a little more soup.

"Then you'll come to my garden and we'll walk around and see what you like."

He smiles: a little rueful, maybe, but a smile nonetheless.

"I'd be glad to," he murmurs.

"Good, you need to eat more proper food."

[OOC: Oh, these two. *grins* Possible fadepoint there?]

(OOC: Yes, that looks lovely and let me know whenever he needs to be kidnapped for baking and gardening.)

[OOC: I absolutely shall. :D!]