The next day, Colonial One
"What better than a day, starting with a meeting with Colonel Tigh?" Mused Laura with a devilish grin while looking for her white "hug me" blouse. Men liked her in it, really, really liked her…
"Madame President, The Colonel and his wife have arrived. Shall I invite them to come in?"
What? I haven't ordered Ellen for breakfast! Tigh was the only one in the menu!
Well, let's see what she's got…
"Yes, Billy, invite them"
At the look of Ellen Tigh, holding her husband's arm Laura experienced the immediate impulse to hide back in her quarters and maybe vomit. Stupid woman. She didn't want her man. She didn't even like the man. Definitely not her type. Unlike his best friend… Oh, shut up.
"Colonel Tigh, so good to see you. We haven't met since… when? The dinner at the Admiral, right? How are you?"
Laura gave him her brightest smile and a close hug, just like the ones Ellen was giving The Admiral. Not that her hugs have something to do with Ellens'. Not at all.
She let the poor confused Colonel go and raised an eyebrow in Ellen's direction. This is The President shooting back, bitch. Play or die.
1 hour later Saul managed to make a graceful exit from the ninth circle of Hell, leaving the two women in a conversation which seemed to be everything but pretty…
Galactica, Tigh's quarters, 2 hours later
To see Ellen throwing dishes and glasses towards somebody who made her angry was a common picture. To see Ellen throwing glasses towards the wall was something slightly new. But to see Laura Roslin's picture on the named wall was an extraordinary event.
"Hey, honey. How was the war today? You took any hostages?"
Saul smirked trying to kiss his furious wife while she was occupied with tearing apart one notebook. The glasses were all broken already and she was running out of supplies.
"Don't you even dare to…. to….. You, miserable, pathetic and hypocritical idiot! Next time you agree to a meeting with the President will be your last day alive! Is that clear??"
"Ok. Ok. Don't be mad. From now on we will communicate only through love letters. I'm sure Bill will be kind enough to become our deliverer"
He got a really hard slap for this sentence after which Ellen disappeared in the bedroom.
Saul took off his jacket, pore a glass of Ambrosia, sat heavily on the couch and…. laughed.
War between women was one pretty interesting event. And as everyone said- two are fighting, but the third wins. After all, Saul was the one receiving hugs and kisses from one very sexy President. Who was he to complain about it?
Ops… Bill and Ellen wouldn't like the way of his thoughts…
"Maybe it's time to concentrate on my Ambrosia"
30 min. later
After breaking everything breakable, Ellen Tigh sat and started thinking about a contra hit. Something involving Bill… and cameras…
Joe's bar. Two evenings later
Bill Adama was absolutely exhausted. Not only that his annoying president has scheduled a meeting about "talking" again, but also Saul continued with his idiotic comments and if that wasn't enough, the Picon's party was 3 days away and Ellen used every free minute asking him if pink curtains were better than blue. No, Bill definitely needed a break. He didn't actually remember whose idea was to build a bar, but, Gods bless that man….
"Admiral, good evening. What would you like?"
"A private table and a glass of Ambrosia, Joe. Thank you."
"Here you are, Sir. Enjoy your night."
"Oh, he will. Believe me."
Dressed in something which suspiciously reminded him of…. Something which he just didn't want to think about, Ellen Tigh smiled and, before Bill realized on which planet exactly he was, she jumped in his lap.
The barman decided to make his quiet exit, not exactly sure what he was witness of.
Ouch….
"Are you on drugs?"
"Very funny, dear. I was just looking for company."
"Your company is not very happy about you sitting in his lap and unless you want to sleep in the brig, your company suggests that you should find a chair. Now."
But "now" was uncertain term and in Joe's bar in was enough for all the photographers to make some pretty good pictures of The Fleet Admiral and an unidentified woman in red sitting in his lap in the dark corner of the bar. In the minute Bill recognized the flashlights from the cameras, he knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.
