(Untitled)

[mr_gaeta]

Every wireless on Galactica tunes in to the swearing-in ceremony; everyone hears the first action laid down by their new President.

There will be no prosecutions. I am issuing a general pardon for every human being in this fleet.Gaeta isn't aware that he's staring at the closest wireless speaker, as befuddled as if it's begun spewing molten lava,

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[presidentpythia]

She has several stacks of notebooks and files arranged on her desk, and is frowning over one of them when he arrives.

Tory clears her throat. "Madam President?"

Roslin glances up, closes the file, and smiles.

"Felix. It's good to see you." She nods to Tory, who discreetly withdraws.

[mr_gaeta]

"And you, sir," he returns, hands finding one another behind his back as he stands before her desk. The sir takes a little effort, after the months of consciously training himself out of it; it takes less than he expects, though.

Colonial One looks simultaneously exactly the same and completely alien from the last time he saw it. The paintings are gone; the whiteboard is back; the furniture has been reassembled throughout the room.

It doesn't smell like cigarettes and alcohol.

[presidentpythia]

"Please," she says, gesturing him to a seat with gracious ease.

"I suppose you're wondering why I asked you to come here?"

[mr_gaeta]

"Oh -- thank you," he says, and as always there is that little hitch of surprise, as if politeness has no place in being extended toward him. Gaeta unclasps his hands and moves forward to take a seat, settling himself as comfortably as he can before he meets Roslin's gaze.

('Comfortably,' in this case, still leaves him with his back ramrod straight.)

He smiles, faint and a little wry. "And it did cross my mind, sir, yes."