"Oh, I do, believe me."

There's no mistaking the dryness now. (Gaeta did know Gaius Baltar for four years, after all.)

His eyes narrow thoughtfully when he hears the chord. It's...not something he can place, exactly, not like a clear and decisive change of oh, yes, that sound is a little higher and that one's a touch lower. It just feels better against his ears; it has the satisfying click of code aligning or a tactical maneuver falling into place.