starlogs | (no subject)

WHO: Sam Anders and Lee Adama
WHERE: Lee's quarters
WHEN: Today
WHAT: Lee breaks his shower and calls the repair service. He doesn't get the repairman he was looking for.
WARNINGS: None

[ It's such a stupid job. Just because he's a Cylon doesn't mean that he knows how to fix every machine that breaks down. He doesn't. He isn't a repairman. He was a scientist first. A musician. A pyramid star. A Viper pilot. He has no idea how to do starship maintenance. He barely knows how to do Viper maintenance.

But the powers that be on this ship had given him a job and when the call comes to go perform it, he doesn't really have any choice. He could refuse, sure, but there's a small possibility that he'll know what to do and he figures that he might as well try to be helpful. At least he'll meet another one of his fellow travelers. After the Galactica, he thinks it'll be nice to talk to someone who doesn't look at him with wary distrust or fear.

Sam reaches his destination before too much time has passed and, after a doubtful glance at his toolbox—some of which he doesn't even know how to use—he knocks on the door. Then he plasters on a friendly smile and waits. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It's a difficult conversation to have and no matter when they tried to have it, it would still be hard to get through. Sam thinks it's good that they're doing it now instead of waiting. Waiting would probably only have caused resentment to grow and get worse. This way, he hopes—optimistically, foolishly—that they can get through it and put it behind them. Because what's on the other side of it has got to be better than what's on this one.

He looks at him, but it's the kind of focus that's soft and hazy. He's watching and paying attention, listening to what Lee's saying and what he's trying to say, but he isn't scrutinizing or judging him. The time for that has passed. ]

Apology accepted. [ He says it quietly, not so immediately that it sounds like he's being disingenuous and not so forcefully that it sounds like he's lying. He isn't doing either of those things. ] I mean that. What happened to me, it—Well, it put things in perspective.

[ Sam doesn't say he'd like them to be friends. Maybe some day they will be, but he can't force it. They need time to process everything that's happened, both to the fleet and to them personally. Once they have, who's to say what path they'll find themselves on? Sam's certainly been surprised before. Maybe he will be again. ]

And I've put this shower head back on as well as I can. But I'll send a real plumber out to have a look at it, all right? I used to have a busted old thing in my apartment on Caprica that I fixed a few times, but I wouldn't say I'd good at things like this.

[ Maybe some day they will be. If they'd met under normal circumstances, Lee believes they would've been. But when ill feelings are there from the start, it's sort of hard to figure out a way to get beyond those and figure out the right way to proceed. He's trying not to keep old grudges. Even if it is hard. But, his life has been starting to change. Whether it's for the better or worse, Lee has no frakking clue.

Maybe he's supposed to learn something here from all of this.

Of course, he doesn't know what that is so he can't really say one way or the other. Much like he doesn't know if he's supposed to keep on this track or just let the derailment about the shower happen. Might as well just let it go. What more is there to say? ( Besides the things they've both buried deep and won't show themselves until alcohol or anger pries them loose. ) So, Lee just breathes and rubs a hand over his face. ]

Yeah, sure. [ Lee makes an aborted sort of gesture. ] It's probably fine. If not there's a head down the hall. [ He offers a small lopsided grin. ] Nicer than the racks on Galactica, huh.

[ Despite everything, or maybe because of everything, Sam laughs. It comes out as a snort that rolls into a breathless kind of laugh. It's true. The facilities here are better than what they had on Galactica. Everything's better. The lighting. The width and height of the hallways. The atrium. The food. The exercise areas. The size of the ship.

Although, considering how old the battlestar was, it's not really that surprising. ]

Yeah. [ He nods, still smiling a little. ] It sure is. It's a shame the old ship wasn't more like this one, for how long everyone was cooped up on it.

[ Packing up his stuff, Sam leaves the bathroom and starts toward the door. He can't stay and chat like they're friends, but he doesn't just want to leave without... He's not sure. Making a gesture, maybe. Trying to bridge the distance between them, for familiarity's sake if nothing else. So he stops mid-way there and looks at Lee. ]

Listen, if you ever—I mean, it's nice. Seeing a familiar face. You ever want to, I don't know, talk or anything, let me know.

[ There's probably always going to be a nostalgic pang in his gut whenever he thinks about Galactica. So much happened with that ship. And now he'll never see it again. He remembers vividly when he'd wanted to never see the Bucket again. And now he's looking back on it fondly through the lens of a man who's lost everything familiar. Lee knows the universe stretches on almost infinitely. Space is so damn vast. But, in that, it's familiar.

He looks in Sam's direction but not fully at him. There's a distant, glazed look to his expression while the thoughts swirl in his head. Sam, too, is familiar.

So, maybe being here isn't the worst thing that could happen to him.

He's lost within his own thoughts that he nearly misses the offer Sam makes. It filters through his own internal angsting on the topic of his life and he looks at Sam only slightly startled. ]

Oh, um. [ Intelligence runs deep. He gives himself a mental shake and nods. ] Yeah. It is nice, yeah. [ Because it is. He's not just paying lip-service there. ] Same to you. [ He lifts a hand in a slightly dorky send-off. ] I'll see you around, Sam.