~BSG: White Horse, Red Horse, Black Horse, Pale Horse
Title: White Horse, Red Horse, Black Horse, Pale Horse
Author: kastari
Summary: “There’s a toaster in your head. And it wears high heels.” BSG song lyrics used: “Oh woe is your Cylon heart. Your girlfriend is a toaster." From: ‘Battlestar Operatica.' And so began the lifting of the veil.
Characters: Adama/Roslin, Cottle, Baltar/Head Six
Timeframe: Colonial Day
Rating: T
Word Count: 200
Author’s Note: Written for the 23rd ar_drabbles challenge. Prompt: BSG song lyrics
Disclaimer: I’m just playing in Universal’s sandbox.
White Horse, Red Horse, Black Horse, Pale Horse
Baltar lay on the exam table, the contingent circling round him.
“I hear a cacophony of music in my head, Doctor. Oh the noise, noise, noise, noise, noise. There are simply too many songs.”
“Well, at least there’s something in there. I was beginning to have my doubts.” Cottle blew a puff of smoke over Baltar.
The Ph.D. coughed.
“None of you can see her? Blonde hair. Red dress. She’s Oneirus, I tell you.”
Laura Roslin rolled her eyes. “Doctor, what’s his prognosis? I need to know if my Vice President is mentally fit. Is he capable of fulfilling his duties?”
“If I might ask, just what exactly are my duties, Madame President? I get the distinct feeling I’m simply your arm candy.”
Six leaned over Baltar.
His eyes caressed her breasts.
“That would be Adama, Gaius, not you,” she whispered, hot and breathy in his ear. “Oh woe is your Cylon heart. Your girlfriend is a toaster. She’s not the president.”
“I’m a Cylon?!” Baltar sat bolt upright, startling the foursome.
Cottle swore.
Laura snorted.
Six smiled, wicked and sweet.
Adama skewered Baltar with his glare. “Have you been tested, Doctor? Because if you’re a Cylon, we’re really screwed.”
~finis~