(Untitled)

[nomorenicegaius]

It could be said that in Milliways, Halloween is redundant. Besides, it's not exactly a holiday that they celebrated on the Twelve Colonies. Between these two facts, Gaius Baltar can probably be forgiven for coming downstairs and not realizing that anything is going on. Particularly considering that Bar isn't speaking to him, and won't change

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[headed4hell]

Halloween is Grace's favorite holiday. The costumes, the candy, the outrageous parties: what's not to love? The only reason she isn't dressed up now is because it's not Halloween in Oklahoma City; and, well, maybe Bar doesn't quite know what to make of her yet. All evidence suggests Grace is rarely fazed by such things as an unexpected change in appearance, and Bar likes a challenge.

Also, she'd taken one look at the be-costumed crowd, marched up to Bar and asked for a set of devil's horns, just to get Earl's goat. The horns are currently nestled in her wild dark blonde hair, behind a group of braids at her right temple. Everything else is pure Grace Hanadarko: dusty boots, jeans and fitted leather jacket.

Gaius won't have to talk her into buying drinks. She's already got two beers down at her end of the bar, if he's interested.

[nomorenicegaius]

Oh, he's definitely interested. He's keeping one eye on that other beer to see if it's an open invitation, or if she's waiting for someone to join her.

[headed4hell]

She's waiting for someone to join her alright; it's just that she's not real particular as to who. Laughing at the bemused expression of the latest costume victim over by the front door, she spins on her stool and does a slow sweep of the room, eyes flicking back to Gaius after she finishes.

Grace smiles invitingly and picks up the other longneck with the index and middle fingers of her left hand, palm out, then lets it sway back and forth like a fishing lure bobbing in the water: Come and get it.

Another sip of hers, still staring, and her smile widens.

[nomorenicegaius]

Well, that's as close as an invitation as Gaius needs, so he sidles over to the woman and slides into the seat beside her in front of the bottle.

"Looking for company, I assume?" he asks once he's settled.

[headed4hell]

"Always."

Gaius, being male and alone, fits the bill nicely.

"You looked like you could use a drink." She releases the beer, slides it closer to him. "What'd you do? Run up your tab?"

[nomorenicegaius]

He pops the top gratefully and takes a long pull before he answers. "Something like that. Insulting the bar and threatening violence against her when she cut me off probably didn't help either."

[headed4hell]

"Probably not." Grace laughs, giving her head a sympathetic shake. "Damn, man. Never bite the hand that feeds."

Or supplies drinks.

Yeah, she's been there.

"Who knew furniture could hold a grudge?" she asks, patting Bar fondly lest she take umbrage against both of them.

[nomorenicegaius]

He laughs at that, and it's hardly a pleasant sound. "Oh, that much I knew. A race of overgrown toasters wiped out over ninety-nine percent of humanity back where I'm from."

[headed4hell]

Both eyebrows shoot up.

"Huh. That's a new one."

Just when she thinks she's heard it all...

"Got a name?"

[nomorenicegaius]

"Gaius," he replies. "Gaius Baltar."

[headed4hell]

Grace nods, taking her time lighting a cigarette and exhaling the first curl of smoke before she responds.

"Nice. Very roman," she decides, offering him her pack of smokes. "I'm Grace."

[nomorenicegaius]

He accepts the cigarettes and lights one for himself. "I'll refrain from making a joke out of your name, as I'm sure you've heard them all," he says before taking a drag. Godsdamn, but it's been a while since he's had a smoke. "And I don't know about Roman. I was born on a world called Aerelon, and there it's a name of some distinction. My parents were obviously optimists."

[headed4hell]

Little known fact: Grace likes her name, despite any and all connotations it has. She takes all jokes in stride, even makes some of her own.

"Tell me about it," she says, and it's wry. "Well they couldn't have been too wrong about you if you landed in that one percent that survived the overgrown toasters."

Jesus, this place is weird.

[nomorenicegaius]

He takes another pull from the beer. "Oh, I more than lived up to the name, though it took me completely disassociating myself with my upbringing and adopting an entirely new persona and past. Surviving the Cylon attack, though... That was me skating through on blind luck and reputation."

[headed4hell]

Grace takes this all in, blowing two or three smoke rings as she thinks.

"And what sort of reputation is that?" she asks, curiously.

[nomorenicegaius]

"Well, as a genius, of course," he says, half as though it should be obvious, but with an edge of dark amusement as well.