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molly

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There's a bar near city hall that Lee frequents. Usually, it's only when he's been spending time in the law library, studying or working on a paper, and by the time he's done for the day and he's read through enough that he finds himself going cross-eyed, the idea of stopping in before heading back to High Gate Terrace for the night seems like the best thing he'll do all day.

Of course, he knows all the work will eventually be worth it. While Darrow has been mostly kind to its newcomers, to people from different times and planets and dimensions, it's not without its flaws. First and foremost being the lack of representation for those people. It's something that grates on Lee every time he sees a protest or reads an Op Ed in the paper about it, and for the most part, no one else seems to care much. But they're stuck here, just the same as everyone else, and they deserve to have a say in their government. To help shape it. There should be programs to help new arrivals get acclimated. Instead, there's nothing.

He's hoping to change that. Eventually.

This evening, there's just a bar full of professionals and a strong glass of scotch. The rest, he'll figure out later.

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"At first?" Molly asks, without stopping to give it much thought. "What happened after that?" It's really only in having this conversation that she's realized she doesn't know all that much about Lee in the first place. They've crossed paths several times before, they've talked, but she's never really stopped to find out more. It seems like high time she changed that, except it occurs to her a moment too late that this could be too intrusive, and she pulls a face, nose wrinkling. "Sorry, if I'm asking too many questions, feel free to tell me to stop."

He's taking a drink when she asks, and frowns as the liquid settles on his tongue, pausing for a moment before he finally swallows and answers her.

"No, it's okay," Lee says, "We were attacked. I... I'd been assigned to participate in the decommissioning of the Battlestar my father commanded. A Battlestar's kind of like an aircraft carrier. On my way back home, they set off nukes. Millions of people died, most of humanity wiped out in less than a day. They needed pilots, and I'd taken an oath. So after that it became more of a permanent position than I'd anticipated."

He'd been so bitter, so angry to have been given that assignment at first, but the truth was, it had probably saved his life, being off-world that day. He would have died on Caprica, otherwise.

"Sorry," he continues, realizing that he'd fallen silent, "It's kind of a downer."

"Jesus," Molly says on an exhale, her eyes growing wide. It sure as hell isn't what she'd have expected to hear, something that's harder to wrap her head around than anything else he's told her thus far. Other planets and space travel, those are different, nothing she's used to, but different is often par for the course in Darrow. Most of humanity being wiped out is not. Even having lived through some difficult shit in her own lifetime, none of it begins to compare to that. She can't even begin to imagine. "Don't be sorry, it's — I mean, I asked." Much as she'd like to say that, no, it isn't, he's right. It kind of is a downer, despite the fact of it not being her world. "That sounds pretty fucking intense."

"We were on the run for a long time," he goes on to say, "looking for some place new to call home. Maybe it's frakked up to say it, but... as much as I miss the people I've left behind to be here, it's kind a relief to finally be able to at least try to put down roots somewhere."

Darrow takes people away just as easily as it brings them, he's learned. Kara disappeared without a trace, for no reason, and the same thing could happen to him at any time, But for now, it's nice to have a bit of a breather.

"And here I thought being on the campaign trail was rough," Molly says wryly, her voice still soft. There's a fine line between sympathy and pity, and she wouldn't cross it for anything, but she doesn't want to just be dismissive, either, with something that fucking major. She's always been the kind to settle wherever she goes, anyway, decorating her hotel rooms so they'd feel more personal, like something hers, making sure her apartment here is a home and not just some empty place to live in. She imagines that would be more difficult in space, with their entire world gone. "I don't think there's anything wrong with it. I mean, after all that, of course you'd want to be able to settle somewhere, right? Especially if that's what you were trying to do in the first place."

He talks about leaving people behind as if he'd had some kind of choice in it. On the contrary, he'd been doing the exact opposite when he'd found himself in a dive, his Viper caught in the gravitational pull of an unfamiliar planet. He'd been determined not to leave Kara, or rather, not to let her leave him again. As it turns out, that had been as out of his control in Darrow as it had been when she'd flown into the storm.

"Oh, I've seen how rough a political campaign can be," he says, trying to bring the subject back to something a little more light. Though he'd only heard a lot of Roslin's woes secondhand from his father. Being CAG had taken up most of his time during the election back with the Fleet, "I wouldn't make light of it."

"It can be pretty nightmarish," Molly says, head tipping to the side, though she's grinning as she does. In the case of the one she worked on, she can't say she enjoyed every second of it, given the way all of that ended, but for the most part, she'd loved it anyway. It was one thing watching her father campaign as she was growing up, his reelection something he took seriously no matter how good his odds were. Really being a part of it herself, though, even only as an intern, she'd been sure it was what she wanted to do. "I'm not really sure what it says about me that that's still what I intend to do with my life."

"Probably that you're just a little bit crazy," he replies, taking a chance that she won't be offended by the accusation. Truthfully, he probably doesn't know her well enough to tease, but he's had a few drinks at this point and is feeling a little reckless.

"But I think most of us are a little crazy, at this point."

He's going to law school, for gods sake. He should be trying to find a way back to the Fleet, not putting down roots. But it's difficult not to try for something he'd been thinking about for so long, now that the opportunity has presented itself.

"Oh, wow, thank you," Molly says, laughing, amused rather than offended. After all, he's probably right. No person who's completely sane could want to go into a line of work this endlessly frustrating, one full of red tape and compromise, fighting tooth and nail to try to make even the smallest bit of difference and knowing there'll never be an end in sight. She isn't sure if it makes it better or worse that she's not blind to the situation, is well aware of what awaits her and how fucked up most people in that business are. Either way, it still isn't enough for her to consider anything else. "So by 'most of us,' you better be owning up to being a little crazy, too, right?"

"I never said I wasn't," Lee replies, and it's not so much that people have accused him of it, than he feels that way most of the time these days. Pretending like it's not frakking insane that he's trapped here like he is. Maybe he isn't content to live in Darrow and not feel like he's making a difference— even if getting there's going to take a while— but he knows that none of them should even be there in the first place.

Gods, it's enough that he finds himself looking up at the stars some nights, expecting Galactica to jump in. It's frakking insane.

"Alright, good," Molly says warmly, sipping her drink. "So at least we're in good company, right?" All joking aside, that goes a long way. To go into this line of work at all, anyone would have to be pretty goddamn nuts. To still pursue it even after everything she went through, though, the up close look she got at how fucked up that world is, makes her crazier. It helps to know that there are decent people interested in the same sorts of things she is. She might not know Lee all that well, but he doesn't strike her as someone who's only trying to get ahead for himself.

"I'll definitely drink to that," he says, and lifts his glass before finishing it off. In more ways than one, he's become increasingly convinced that he's lost his frakking mind. But it's to be expected right? After the end of the worlds, and everything else he'd gone through, maybe Lee has earned the right to be a little crazy.

"To being crazy together," Molly says, lifting her own glass in turn. "And... making some kind of a fucking difference." It isn't really funny, especially given how futile attempts at doing so can be, but she can't help laughing, having said so. That makes it more difficult to sip her drink again, but after a moment, she drains what's left in her glass, setting it down on the bar. "I think I should probably cut myself off there."

"To making a difference," he agrees, and he couldn't have said it better himself, actually. It's what he's been working toward since he finally accepted that he's not going to make it off of this rock under his own power. At some point, whatever has brought them all there might see fit to let him make his way back to the Fleet, but in the time that he's stuck, he's not going to just sit around doing nothing if he can help it.

"And me too, actually. If I actually want to get up in the morning."

"Yeah, I've found that's usually a good idea," Molly says with a grin. "Not going to work hungover, too." It's not like she hasn't done that before on several occasions, but that's all the more reason why she knows it's something to be avoided if at all possible. Much as she wouldn't go back to those days for a second, that was one of the nice things about the week she spent cooped up in her apartment, working from home. Her schedule was a little more flexible, and if she needed to sleep off an evening of heavy drinking, she could.

Then again, she wasn't getting much sleep in those days in general.

"We should do this again sometime, though," she adds, shrugging easily. "I'm here pretty often, I'll have to keep an eye out for you."

"Yeah, not a good idea," Lee agrees. He's yet to go to work or class hungover in Darrow, but he figures that the number of times he found himself at morning briefings feeling like his head was going to cave in more than makes up for it.

"And I'll do the same. Maybe I'll even look a little less pathetic than I do drinking by myself."

"Aw, you didn't look pathetic," Molly says with a grin. "Besides, I mean, if you hadn't been sitting alone, I probably wouldn't have come over, so I really think that worked out for the best for both of us." For one, it's not like he'd been the only one sitting by himself. Even if that hadn't been the case, she'd be pleased she sat down next to him. She knows a lot more about Lee now than she did before this evening, and it kind of feels like it's about time that was the case. If nothing else, she's glad it is now.

"I'll just thank the gods for small favors, then," he replies, though he's still not convinced. Usually, he reserves drinking alone for wallowing, but in Darrow, it's mostly because he doesn't have many people to drink with at all. It's not like Galactica, with a pilots' mess full of rowdy viper jocks on the next deck. Most of the time, it's just him.

"For what, that you didn't look pathetic or that I sat with you?" Molly asks, clearly teasing. At least as far as she's concerned, this has probably been a lot more interesting than her night would have been otherwise, and definitely better company than she could have counted on. It's left her curious, too; later, she'll have to ask about the religion where he came from, the mention of gods, plural, not escaping her notice. When they're both calling it a night, this isn't the time, but it's hard not to wonder. "Or both?"

"Both, actually," Lee says, with a hint of a smile, "Though I'm still not so sure about the former."

It's probably better than drinking alone back in his apartment, though. At least out a bar, there's some attempt to do something outside of work and school. It's still strange to know that's an option for him, these days. With a gradually decreasing number of viper pilots, there wasn't a lot of time for R&R.

"I guess you'll just have to take my word for it," Molly says, her own smile wide and bright. "If it helps, I would not have sat next to someone who looked pathetic sitting here." She likes Lee, but she also feels like she knows him considerably better now than she did when she first spotted him at the bar, and besides, she doesn't really do the pity thing. Pulling her wallet out of her purse, she adds, "Though I think I am gonna head out once I've settled my tab, so you're on your own then."

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