Two days later, Alec stopped by Mayla's quarters with a schedule of events on various ships that might need photographic coverage. Seated cross-legged on her bunk, she was reading over two sheets of paper, a singularly bemused expression on her face.
"Hey, Mayla. What have you got there?"
She looked up. "I'm honestly not sure, Alec, but these arrived today in separate envelopes. Take a look." She handed over both sheets.
The first note was written in the slanted, scratchy script of someone who usually wrote in a hurry:
Dear Ms. Coiros, I wanted to thank you for the stillshot you sent. I regret that I can't frame and display it as it deserves, but I suspect you understand why. Sincerely, Cmdr. W. Adama.
The second showed a flowing, elegant handwriting:
Dear Ms. Coiros, I was touched to receive such a gift of your singular artistry. I will treasure the photo you sent always. Yours truly, Laura Roslin.
Alec looked up at Mayla, whose eyebrows were raised in inquiry. "So what do you think, Junior? Nothing? Or Something?"
Alec shook his head. "I don't know, Boss. I can't say for sure that it's Something ... but it sounds like it's definitely not Nothing."
"Heh. Mind those double negatives."
He grinned and handed the notes back. "One thing seems pretty safe to say: You did good."
"I hope so. I sincerely hope so."
Mayla reached for the box of printed photos sitting next to her. After flicking through the contents, she came across the third copy of the Roslin/Adama picture, the copy she'd finally decided to make for herself. Alec watched as she carefully tucked the notes in next to the picture.
"Best of luck, you two," she murmured.
Alec nodded. "So say we all."