#pathlit

Sheppard rubs at his chin--too scruffy, he needs a shave, but the texture of stubble is a needed distraction sometimes. There's a little flicker of defensiveness for his team. They aren't good because of him; they're just good. He's lucky to have them, not the other way around.

But she's not wrong, really. They aren't easy. That might be part of why they're good, but... Not easy.

So, he answers her question. Casual, like they're talking about changing shifts or something. "Teyla could take point on the team. She can handle Rodney; she just needs to get a little meaner with him to keep his ego in check. As far as the military leader on base--I know you. You'd find a way to make sure it's not Caldwell. He's got the tactical knowledge, but--no offense to him, you need someone a little quicker on his feet. And he doesn't have the kind of flight hours I have. He's gotten too used to barking orders from the chair. I've got a list of people I think would make a good replacement..."

So, he's thought about it a little. He doesn't exactly have a will, because he doesn't have much of anything, but he's thought about what's important to him.

"I know it's not exactly useful in the short term," Daniel says, preemptively rolling his eyes about what he knows Major Sheppard's reaction will be. Sometimes he misses all the bickering with Jack, because at least he knows Jack has a soft side. Sheppard, on the other hand? If he has one, Daniel has yet to discover it--although he's not really looking, either.

fingers lift to press against her lips, hiding her expression, keeping the unwanted laughter at bay. it wasn’t funny. it was the worst joke she ever heard, cheesy and so in-theme that it was teetering dangerously close to tacky. but ellie was smiling. no, she was grinning, vibrating with a pure, incandescent energy that was impossible to resist. pink lips twitch. small at first, long-standing feud against puns keeping her smile at bay, only for a giggle to burst through. it ebbs out into a sunny, vibrant smile, the pale column of her neck exposed as she threw her head back and gave into the terrible joke, and just laughed.

❛⠀⠀ how long were you waiting to use that one? ⠀ ❜

Paul sets his jaw, stopping himself before he says anything. He knows the importance of being careful with his words, especially when the words he wants to say are based in emotion.

Especially when he's speaking to his mother.

His father's disapproval is oppressive; every sound of his father's disapproval is etched in Paul's thoughts to remind him before he makes the same mistakes again. Paul reins in his words with his father to avoid disapproval.

With his mother, it's something else. They are so entwined that sometimes her disapproval feels like his own, and he would remake himself until he can be what she wants.

"Beloved."

Her voice is all playful affront. She does faux-innocence with the best of them, especially when her smile goes that slight bit wicked. It's a late night, dragging on with all the minutae that come after the wild relief of hard-brokered peace.

She hadn't really waited up for him, when you consider how little she sleeps. Just waited.

"It's almost always unintentional."

But not tonight. She'd known exactly what she was doing in asking an old friend to advance her suggestion for personnel assignments. That the Admiralty feels they have to listen isn't her fault. And realistically--it's only a suggestion. A wild one, at that. They have every reason to ignore it. And Chris has more right than anyone to object.

Two hundred and twenty-seven. That's the goal. Kill two hundred and twenty-seven of them before they kill him. He got to sixty-three the first time. Eighty-seven the second time. Ninety-five this time.

He's not good enough. Not yet.

Ash steps out of the holographic simulation room, exhausted. He wants to try again, but his hands are shaking and his legs feel like they might give out from under him. He hasn't slept in... a while. In fact, he's so out of it he doesn't see Captain Lorca right away.

This argument's been brewing since they returned to the safe-house. Ducky and Decker's presences had delayed it, allowing emotions to build until they reached a boiling point. "Oh, that's rich coming from you, Jethro!" Jenny knows where his anger stems from, but how dare he! Her nostrils flare. "You're a damned hypocrite!" They both know the risks that come with this profession. It doesn't make it any easier when they're forced to split up. "How many times have you come close to- " She stops, breath caught in her throat. She can't bare the thought.

What they're doing is dangerous. If they were wise, they would put an end to them, but it's too late. She's in too deep, and a part of her suspects that he is too. Would they be having this argument if they were only work partners?

Her jaw locks. Darkened gaze rises to meet his glare. "I got the job done," she points out vehemently, leaving out the part about Decker having her back when it had mattered most. "I got the job done, Jethro."