The first things President Roslin saw as she entered her office that morning were Billy and the thermos on her desk.
"Does this one have a note with it?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
'Guess what's coming for dinner.'
"I suppose he ran out of literary references."
"It seems that way, Madame President."
"Hmm. Have your mug ready?"
"Yup."
"Great."
Laura sat down and Billy poured the contents of the thermos into two mugs. After a week of this, it had become part of their morning ritual. Billy cherished their coffee time, and he liked to think his boss did too.
When the coffee was drunk, Billy returned to work, and Laura completed the ritual-by phoning Commander Adama.
"You're handling dinner for me?"
"You need to eat more."
"50,000 people need to eat more, Commander."
"You're job's to worry about them; mine's to worry about you."
"That's presumptuous of you."
"What ya gonna do, fire me?"
"I could you know."
"And work with Tigh?"
"Of course not. Commander Apollo has a nice ring to it."
"I'm sorry, was that a growl?"
"Yes."
"Are you jealous of your son?"
"Of course not. So what would I be doing after you fire me? Chief bottlewasher?"
"No. You seem to like taking care of me. How's the President's Chef sound?"
"Can't I just command Galactica and still provide your meals? It's not like I cook them myself, anyway."
"I suppose."
"You never guessed about dinner."
"I haven't the faintest."
"Me neither. I hope it's good whatever it is. I ordered three platters."
"Three?"
"Yeah. You, me, and Billy."
"Will you be joining us, Commander?"
"Yes, Ma'am. We have a lot to discuss."
"That we do."
"You wouldn't really fire me would you?"
"No, I wouldn't."
"I'll see you at dinner, Madame President."
"Till then, Commander."
