He was good at that. It was a defensive tactic he built up after dealing with Vala's descriptions of alien foods whenever SG-1 went out. She ruined his meals, he ruined hers. There was symmatry in it.

Symmatry and familiarity were good right then.

Still, he offered a small, reassuring smile. "Tastes like chowder, though S'not like anything else isn't space-stuff."

She wasn't Vala. This wasn't home. His momma wouldn't approve of teasing a random stranger without provocation. Well. Much provocation.