[ They're standing close enough together that Caprica could touch her if she wanted to. Could stroke her hair, pull her in and kiss her forehead, the same way she herself would want to be touched — not a way that Gaius ever touched her, but a way that reminds her of her sister Sixes whom she has missed so sorely.
But for now, she holds herself back. The imperative to touch is not so strong as it was when she had eaten the chocolate. She feels the absence of contact, but right now it isn't a raw, desperate ache. Right now she can ignore it.
She smiles, ruefully, and laughs softly instead. ]
I think there are only so many hours anyone can spend reading.
[ Caprica glances aside, and only then does she note the book sitting there on the deck, casually as if it were dropped there. She goes over to it, picks it up. The first indication that it isn't one of the books from the library in the Gardens is the cut corners typical of Colonial literature. The second is that she recognizes the title and the author. One of those somewhat pretentious, overdone pieces of classic fiction Gaius used to read when he could be bothered to. ]
You've been in Gaius's library.
[ Not a question, but she doesn't sound offended either. She sounds a little surprised, instead — and for that moment, she forgets that she has never mentioned her lover to Jackie. ]
[action]
But for now, she holds herself back. The imperative to touch is not so strong as it was when she had eaten the chocolate. She feels the absence of contact, but right now it isn't a raw, desperate ache. Right now she can ignore it.
She smiles, ruefully, and laughs softly instead. ]
I think there are only so many hours anyone can spend reading.
[ Caprica glances aside, and only then does she note the book sitting there on the deck, casually as if it were dropped there. She goes over to it, picks it up. The first indication that it isn't one of the books from the library in the Gardens is the cut corners typical of Colonial literature. The second is that she recognizes the title and the author. One of those somewhat pretentious, overdone pieces of classic fiction Gaius used to read when he could be bothered to. ]
You've been in Gaius's library.
[ Not a question, but she doesn't sound offended either. She sounds a little surprised, instead — and for that moment, she forgets that she has never mentioned her lover to Jackie. ]