“You know the SGC can’t keep bailing you out indefinitely,” John reprimanded Ronon as they stepped out of the police station and into the cool early morning air. Ronon just grunted in response.
“This is the fifth time! And what were you doing in the park at night anyway?”
“Running, couldn’t sleep,” Ronon stated curtly, already heading down the street. “What’s the big deal, others were too.”
John sighed. That certainly explained things; anyone seeing Ronon running in his usual getup would be tempted to call the cops.
“Yes, but they weren't wearing a full set of leather and an angry stare,” John pointed out, hurrying after Ronon and making a mental note to take the Satedan shopping for clothes—forcibly if necessary. “Some of the joggers thought you were chasing them.”
Reaching their car, Ronon turned to John, grinning widely. “I was,” he said, leaning against the vehicle’s black roof. “For practice. Not my fault if they scare easy.”
John couldn’t help smiling a bit at that. “Next time—” he said before unlocking the doors. “—at least leave the knives home.”
~~~ End ~~~