The sock on the doorknob is a time-honored Earth tradition, but you know me and traditions. Never been much for them.
[The disgust in Rodney's voice hurts more than it should. John doesn't let it show, or tries not to, simply looking across the room at nothing in particular with only the briefest hint of a wince.
There's no explaining their relationship. It's complicated. Messy. Somewhere between brother, comrade, and friend, made up of all the best and worst parts. They don't get along, really. They don't even have much in common, other than an interest in remote controlled cars and a shared cause.
But that's just how family is. You don't choose them.
John's belly rumbles. He never did get around to eating dinner.]
no subject
[The disgust in Rodney's voice hurts more than it should. John doesn't let it show, or tries not to, simply looking across the room at nothing in particular with only the briefest hint of a wince.
There's no explaining their relationship. It's complicated. Messy. Somewhere between brother, comrade, and friend, made up of all the best and worst parts. They don't get along, really. They don't even have much in common, other than an interest in remote controlled cars and a shared cause.
But that's just how family is. You don't choose them.
John's belly rumbles. He never did get around to eating dinner.]
Waffles sound good.