That's going to be a tall order on Cricket's part. Caspar has a natural wariness towards gods and magic, and he doesn't make friends easily. But it's true that he has at least one thing in common with the adopted Asgardian. He has something in common with Loki and Cricket both, actually, but if Cricket isn't going to ask him how he managed to get from a locked down spaceship to a Cylon resurrection hub, he's not about to tell.

Cricket's response is the best of all possible outcomes. Caspar isn't looking for pity. "War's hell," he says grimly, then rolls his eyes at his own tone. "But it could have been a lot worse for me. Don't concern yourself about it, okay? I'm fine."

So long as he's not thinking about it, anyway.

That's a rather insightful argument that Cricket offers. Caspar nods a little, impressed. "That's the real problem, though, what you just said. It's not the mortals they're angry at, but they drag us into it, anyway. Look what happened to Hunter, caught in the middle of all those goddesses." He frowns, tapping at his jar of moonshine. "Even when they're benevolent, they don't see us as equals."

He could go on about that -- at Loki's party, no less -- but Cricket's response to his question is far more interesting. He doesn't miss that brief glance towards the younger Loki. The fact that it's another man doesn't matter at all to the Cylon -- barely anyone on Atlantis cares about that, especially not any of the robots -- but the fact that he has a crush on a god is another matter entirely.

And after Caspar went on that little rant about gods, too. Whoops. "A little advice?" he says. "Don't be an idiot like me and wait three months to tell someone how you feel. And get them flowers. Everyone likes flowers."