The Face of the Enemy/Occupation

The morning after the game, he prepares for his return home like he prepared for his first day of work.

It goes one methodical step at a time. Inside room 372, he runs handfuls of warm water over his face; he shaves; he neatens his hair as best he can, and downs a full glass of water to ease the mild hangover. He swore beforehand that he'd set strict limits on this...he supposes it was a vacation, as much of one as he could allow himself. Now the clock's run down, though. Time to move out.

(He has to wonder if he should have allowed himself this much time at all. He can feel the tug that says time's not passing, another few hours won't hurt, a good breakfast won't do any harm; Gaeta dismisses it with a practiced shove, but maybe, if he hadn't stayed this long, there wouldn't be a tug to dismiss at all.)

The painstaking preparation continues downstairs: a moment to return his key to the Bar and ask her to hang on to his Paradoxes hat for him; another to eat some eggs and toast; a third to straighten his jacket, take a breath, and walk out into the frigid New Caprica air.

It turns out that time didn't stop completely while he was gone. About fifteen minutes have passed in his world.

Just enough time for Saul Tigh to be arrested.

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