tobecaprican (
tobecaprican) wrote2011-09-22 08:08 pm
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the last voyages // 2. video. no filter.
[ Somewhat less ruffled than the first time he transmitted a video, but only just, Gaius Baltar sits in view of the camera, nursing a cigarette, and looking faintly disturbed. He is also dressed like a pirate, from the elegant open-throated shirt through to gold-buttoned waistcoat. The bandanna has been left to hang around his neck, and there are a couple of rings on his fingers that are somewhat chunky and antiquated.
They glint a little as he takes another drag from his cigarette. It's a self-medicating technique so he doesn't freak out at people over phones again. He's just spent a few days believing he was a pirate, never you mind. When he poses his question, it's quite measured; ]
Does this happen very often?
OOC: I may still pirate!Baltar backtag a bit, but. \ oAo/
They glint a little as he takes another drag from his cigarette. It's a self-medicating technique so he doesn't freak out at people over phones again. He's just spent a few days believing he was a pirate, never you mind. When he poses his question, it's quite measured; ]
Does this happen very often?
OOC: I may still pirate!Baltar backtag a bit, but. \ oAo/
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[ For whatever reason, he looks suddenly, if vaguely upset at this notion, but not intending to get it on the other Barge resident as he studies his nails rather than his communicator, and then the gold rings on his hands. How is he still in a pirate costume.
The jewelry is tugged off and set aside for safekeeping. ]
So those that might recognise me might know about Caprica too through...
...written fiction.
[ Baby steps, but deliberately so -- he isn't sure he wants to understand this fully. ]
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How long have you been aboard? How much has been explained to you?
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I've had those explained to me, now. The general idea of the place, and this-- ridiculous rehabilitation system. And that there are those from different worlds.
Also, the Admiral is a tosser, and a drunkard.
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My warden was new too.
So that was a bit unkind. But as you say, it hardly matters.
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Death is not permanent, and I would advise you to stay well away from anyone whose smile has become a little too wide.
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Death toll. Yes, that's the--
That's the other quite important thing that was mentioned. It's a lot to take in. I've spent long years coming to grasp with the basic fundamentals of life, you know, academically, and it's all just--
[ Vague hand wave meant to communicate the utter disintegration of simple physics, chemistry, biology. And then ashes out finished cigarette with a final exhale of smoke. ]
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That might help.
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How long'd it take you, then? To get used to it.
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I arrived in September of 2009. Or 1998, depending on your worldview. It is now September 2011. I've been home three times, for a grand total of one year, which would place me close to the three-year mark since my arrival on the good ship misery.
Now, when did I become accustomed to dealing with the utter rubbish forced upon me by this cesspool...
Three years. If one considers 'jaded' to be a synonym for 'accustomed'.
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That's a long frakking time.
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Then again, my meals are prepared for me, I have most of my desires granted upon request, and eventually, I will rehabilitate an inmate and be well and truly shot of this place, deal in hand.
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[ Couldn't help but see if third time is a charm. It's unsettling, giving a name and not receiving one! Also the principle of the thing. ]
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[Keep trying, Gaius. Keep trying.]