[There's the sharp report of one, two, three, gunshots, and a muffled curse, against the sunset.
It's supposed to be over. He doesn't have to think about it, he's accepted it, he is not dependent on Oz any longer he promised himself this, he really did
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Hey, everything okay there?
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...everything's fine.
[tone of voice says otherwise.]
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[The sharp note drops from her voice because target practice she knows. Even if she isn't totally sure that's target practice.]
Sure it is. You're not just shooting things to make yourself feel better?
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I'm shooting things to make my aim better, thank you.
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[Which makes her wonder if there's a real shooting range around here. No point in getting rusty.]
Any particular reason you have to have a good aim?
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[firm, without hesitation.]
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[And more importantly, because Kara is a firm believer in people being able to take care of themselves...]
Shouldn't you be making sure they know how to shoot too?
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['trouble' is a pretty light term.]
He already knows how [and at this he cringes a little, well, it was true], but it's still better that I always look out for him.
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[And yes, she's nosy but it's always good to know what others term trouble.]
Can't look out for him all the time though; people need to be able to stand on their own two feet in the big bad world.
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[It's okay. So as long as Gil is distracted. But her last statement hits his abandonment complex hard, and he blanches.]
I'll protect him as long as I live; that's that.
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[She's making a face at the screen as she reaches for one of her cigars. Something about that sounds a little off to her.]
You his bodyguard?
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[he huffs, and lights a cigarette of his own, going down to finally sit under a tree and brood.]
I'm his servant.
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[Smoke is exhaled which is a good thing because she's sure she looks more openly upset than she'd like. She's worrying about everyone back on Galactica right now.]
Wait, his servant? Really?
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