Sockman Meets The President
"So, true story," says Starbuck, sitting down at the poker table. "I found out why he's in the brig. It's pretty frakkin' amazing."
The entire table perked up, as the recent one-day imprisonment had been the talk of Galactica. "Share or die," said the ever-brash Corporal Jones, grinning at Kat, who then elbowed Hot Dog. "I mean, share or die, sir."
Starbuck chuckled. "Oh, I'm sharing, but first you bitches better ante up, because I'm in the mood to win everyone's money."
Groaning, the others anted up and Starbuck smiled at them radiantly. "Check this frakking madness out."
"Yeah?" Kat asked.
"So, you know, big meeting today. The Old Man has Madam President over, and it's not just them, it's her and that Billy kid, and Apollo and Tigh and even Baltar, and they're all discussing how to fix the internal policing issue, big to-do, everyone's very serious and grouchy, right?" Starbuck says, feeling around in her jacket pocket for a cigar. "Plus, there's rumblings of a coffee shortage, and that's going to cause problems..."
Coffee. They were arguing about coffee. Billy? Was frankly hoping that they got to something serious so he could be sent away as a security risk. The president was in a bad mood -- she'd slept poorly and had had to spend ten minutes scrubbing a syrup stain out of her favorite jacket.
And she was taking it out on Colonel Tigh, who was in rare, vicious form, all but calling her "that woman" to her face. The Adamas weren't being any help, either -- just a number of worried glances back and forth.
Not that Billy had any better ideas. Sometimes, you just had to let President Roslin be snippy, and Tigh had screwed up with the civilians on that ship. As usual, she wasn't wrong, per se; she was simply very keen on reminding her defeated enemy how damn right she'd been.
"Colonel, are you calling into question the effectiveness of this administration's rationing policies?" the president had just asked, taking off her glasses and fixing Tigh with the look of death. "Because I'd very much like to see you do better at the task."
Billy threw an anxious, pleading look at Lee Adama. Lee met his pleading look with a grimace and rolled his eyes Commander Adama-ward.
Not my fault, and Tigh deserves it was the message there, and Billy sometimes wanted to hit Lee for his petty enjoyment of the president's talent for taking down people Lee also didn't like.
The door opened, and Billy, Commander Adama, and Baltar all sighed in relief. "Yes?" said Adama, looking up.
His mouth dropped. Everyone's mouths dropped.
Standing there in front of them was a naked man. Well, naked except for the black wool boot sock over his dick and the pilot's helmet with the visor down that he was wearing.
"Did somebody call for...Sockman?" the naked man asked in a comically exaggerated voice, posing with both hands on his hips and lifting his chin in old-school superhero style.
Billy did not dare gaze president-ward.
Billy desperately wanted to see the look on her face right now.
Billy was not going to look, because he was deeply ashamed that this was the thought in his head.
There was a naked man with a sock. Posing.
"I see Sockman is not needed here!" Sockman told them in the same pompous tone of voice.
And then Sockman turned, saluted again, and ran like hell.
Dead silence in the conference room. Billy felt the sweat running down his back, because all Billy wanted to do was fall over laughing. Sockman wasn't needed there. Frak, that was about the best thing he had seen since the Cylons came.
And then Billy heard the laughter. Very, very slowly, he turned, with most of the rest of the room, toward its source.
Laura Roslin had both hands covering her face. She was absolutely shrieking with laughter, rocking back and forth, and her neck was bright red.
"Oh, my gods," she said between gasps of laughter. "That really happened, right?"
"We," and Billy could tell Commander Adama was trying not laugh himself, "We will find out who that was immediately, Madam President. I'm appalled at..."
The president held up a hand. "Oh, gods, Bill," she said, still laughing. "Don't punish him too much. That...that...that was funny."
Tigh, snickering slightly, stood up. "I'll go chase our culprit down. Anyone see any distinguishing marks?" he asked.
"You mean, besides the black wool boot sock over his..." and Lee paused. "Well, you know."
"Cat tattoo, on his chest," the president said, having managed to regain her composure while she wiped her eyes. Everyone looked at her, wide-eyed. "What? There was a naked man with a sock. You didn't look closely?"
"Frakking Gaeta," Kat said, helping Hot Dog back into his chair. "That takes balls the size of small moons. And she laughed?"
"Like she was about to bust a lung," Starbuck confirmed. "Gaeta said he could hear her as he was running like the wind."
"Frakking A," Corporal Jones said. "Balls of steel."
"Though it's pretty frakking stupid to run around naked when you have a highly identifying tattoo," Kat pointed out. "Still. Awesome."
"The Legend of Sockman," Starbuck agreed, dealing out the cards. "So say we all. Now, let's get to the poker."