Rodney is explaining basic geophysics to a handful of bored sophomores and juniors, most of which are more interested in IMing their friends in Jakobsen's class next door than listening to him, when a pair of uniformed airmen appear at his door.
"Go away," he says without breaking stride and goes on about the Earth's core and why Hollywood is magnificently, brilliantly wrong, which should never be a surprise but somehow always is. But his students are even more distracted now, and then Samantha Carter says, "Rodney."
"Carter," he returns.
"Rodney," she says again, and then pitches her voice louder and says, "Okay, guys, class is dismissed. I have to talk to Dr. McKay."
"No, hold on, class is not dismissed --" But his students are already fleeing like they've been released from bondage, and Rodney turns his furious eyes on Carter, who's a little older, with a little more gray in her hair and a few more lines on her face. Time does that to people. Rodney's not exactly the man he was either. "I told you I'm not interested," he says, and starts packing up his things, because if he's not teaching then maybe he can get some quality time in the lab.
"Rodney, listen to me for five minutes," Carter says, and from her tone, it's not a suggestion.
Rodney gave up listening to the United States Air Force seven years ago. He turns his back, disconnects his laptop from the outlet, and starts stuffing it into his computer bag with extreme prejudic.
Carter sighs and says, "Bring him in," to the airmen behind her.
"Oh, for -- are you planning to have me arrested?" Rodney demands. "I haven't broken my nondisclosures, if that's what you're worried about. I have better things to do with my abundant free time." He slams his bag down on the podium and turns around. And stops.
Because John Sheppard has just walked in. And Rodney saw him die seven years ago, very messily and very permanently.
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number two! killing time
Date: 2008-03-30 08:08 pm (UTC)"Go away," he says without breaking stride and goes on about the Earth's core and why Hollywood is magnificently, brilliantly wrong, which should never be a surprise but somehow always is. But his students are even more distracted now, and then Samantha Carter says, "Rodney."
"Carter," he returns.
"Rodney," she says again, and then pitches her voice louder and says, "Okay, guys, class is dismissed. I have to talk to Dr. McKay."
"No, hold on, class is not dismissed --" But his students are already fleeing like they've been released from bondage, and Rodney turns his furious eyes on Carter, who's a little older, with a little more gray in her hair and a few more lines on her face. Time does that to people. Rodney's not exactly the man he was either. "I told you I'm not interested," he says, and starts packing up his things, because if he's not teaching then maybe he can get some quality time in the lab.
"Rodney, listen to me for five minutes," Carter says, and from her tone, it's not a suggestion.
Rodney gave up listening to the United States Air Force seven years ago. He turns his back, disconnects his laptop from the outlet, and starts stuffing it into his computer bag with extreme prejudic.
Carter sighs and says, "Bring him in," to the airmen behind her.
"Oh, for -- are you planning to have me arrested?" Rodney demands. "I haven't broken my nondisclosures, if that's what you're worried about. I have better things to do with my abundant free time." He slams his bag down on the podium and turns around. And stops.
Because John Sheppard has just walked in. And Rodney saw him die seven years ago, very messily and very permanently.