trans_9 | Pray this can't be the way

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Pray this can't be the way

He appreciated having a room to himself, even if it was clearly designed for a second party as well. For now, it was his alone. He appreciated that.

The room was about all he really appreciated since the attack of the crew-zombies. The idea was far more cool on paper than it was actually sitting on the roof of the Vatican, mowing down potential crewmates. Still, it was better than mowing down familiar ones. He appreciated that, too.

He appreciated the cute, glowy new look for Stacy, too.

He didn't appreciate the idea of his universe destroyed by something they'd never even gotten the chance to see--let alone fight. He didn't like the idea of being one of the last survivors of his own universe. Whether or not Ronon and Jackson counted as his own universe or another. He appreciated the cute voice. He didn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it, even if she showed him the destruction. None of this was necessarily real. He functioned within it as he needed to, but he wasn't about to fall for something SG-1 already fell for before. The zombies didn't exactly make the place more credible, either.

He frowned, studying the food goop in front of him.

His home-his family. Everyone and every thing he cared about was not gone. He wouldn't leave it to chance and hope that some of the people he cared about might have been alive--he wouldn't accept that their survival meant the deaths of an entire universe were acceptable losses. He wasn't about to accept a 'might' for saving all of them, if they did someone else's dirty work for them. That wasn't how he did things. He wouldn't be manipulated, and...he refused to believe that SG-1 failed. That Stargate Command, and all of their allies failed to protect not just their galaxy, but their universe.

He refused to believe he'd failed to do the one thing that mattered. He couldn't. Not now...not ever.

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"Of course it should taste like chowder," Tempe replied giving him a look. "Why wouldn't it?"

"Maybe she got the recipe wrong." He arched an eyebrow at the woman's expression. "Coulda been a different universe's kind of chowder."

"It came out of a can," Tempe informed him, still looking at him like he was an idiot. "Stacy had nothing to do with the making of the soup."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why would you have a can of chowder?" No, he didn't ask why a can of chowder would have been rescued from the ship. That would imply he believed a word of it.

"Because I was hungry." See this face? She's thinking you're pretty stupid.

Of course. That made perfect sense, except for the fact that it addressed nothing he said.

"...You know it'd taste better if you just made it yourself." Since she seemed to have no issue getting cans of it.

"It probably would, but do you see any fresh clams around the ship? Or fresh vegetables for that matter?"

"Have you explored the whole ship? It's pretty big." He shrugged. "Never know what you could find in one of her dark cupboards."

"No," Tempe answers her eyebrow arching a little bit. "Why would I when I can just go get a can of soup? That's pointless and a complete waste of my time."

He squinted at the woman a moment. "Have you ever had homemade chowder, ma'am?"

If she had, it couldn't have been very well made.

"No," she shrugged. Seriously, did she look like the type who went out searching for a place to eat homemade clam chowder?!

"I like the canned chowder fine enough."

"Well, see. There you go." He gave a brief smile, before shrugging. "Fair enough. I'm a fan of instant coffee, myself. S'pose I can't say anything about canned chowder."

"Instant coffee?" Tempe asked before she reached over and pulled her soup back to her. ~~How dare he compare canned clam chowder to instant coffee!!~~

"I don't think instant can be classified as real coffee myself."

"It's black. It has caffeine. It scalds the tongue if you're too tired or too rushed to wait for it to cool." He shrugged, offering an amused smile. "It works for me. Never found the slower stuff to have more caffeine than the instant."

Tempe shrugs. "Well maybe if you ask Stacy she'll let you know if there's any of it onboard," she suggested before spooning more soup into her mouth.

"Think it's probably best to leave the girl to her repairs just now." He didn't really trust her overmuch just now, anyway.

"Then go look yourself," Tempe rolls her eyes. Is she really going to have to walk this guy through everything?

She was kind of missing the point. "You could get the stuff from the Sensorium, too." He gestured toward the slop on his 'plate'. "Didn't feel like the extra effort today."

That happens a lot, get use to it. "Why do that when you can have the real thing?" Tempe asked.

He arched an eyebrow. "Semantics involved in canned foods aside...what's to say that's any more real than anything in the sensorium?"

"There's actually real food on the ship and you're talking about fake food in the sensorioum?" she asked, not really getting why they were even having this conversation.

Real food trumped anything that could be made in the sensorium to her, because at the end of the day sensorium food was still gloop and the real food was just that, real.

He blinked. "You sure that's real food? We're on some sort of pandimensional ship, traveling through universes at...warp speed..." He pretty much always wanted to be able to say that. "What's to say that's not artificial space-clam?"

She frowns and looks down at her bowl before dropping her spoon on the table beside it. Thanks Cam, you just ruined it for her!!

She's still frowning, almost pouting really. "Perhaps you're right...."

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.

Edited 2009-11-18 14:19 (UTC)

It's still ruined and nothing he can say can change that now. She pointedly pushed her soup to the side and shook her head. "That wasn't very nice," she suddenly pointed out, turning to stare at him.

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