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�You�ve read my file,� John replied.
Elizabeth smiled softly. �Not recently�your Earth file at least. I started new files for everyone here when we got here�that file I end up reading a lot, usually while you�re recovering from something in the Infirmary,� she said. �Plus I was never really all that good with the names of military machinery. I remember there being a lot of birds listed in your file, but my mind sees the name of a bird and a picture of an animal pops into my head.�
�And that right there is where you and I differ,� John said.
�I�m not disputing that,� Elizabeth said. �So, what did you fly?�
John flopped down on the floor, his head resting on his jacket that he had discarded almost two hours earlier. �Everything they�d let me,� he said. �Mostly helos; Osprey, Blackhawk, Apache, Cobra, those four were my main rides. But I�m qualified for F-14�s, F-18�s, most commercial planes, and, my personal favourite, my Stearman. It doesn�t go as fast but it�s the first plane I ever flew, and it�s the only thing that my dad and I ever bonded over.�
�Stearman� I don�t think I know that model,� Elizabeth confessed.
�I didn�t figure you would. Open-cockpit bi-plane. I�ve got a fully restored one, the only thing my father was good for, he restored it and I got it when he died, but since I haven�t been in the States for the past six years, except for my brief stay in Colorado before coming here, she probably needs some work,� John said.
�Well, we�re getting some time off, maybe you can visit� her,� Elizabeth said, frowning at the �her� even as she said it.
Rolling his eyes, John sighed. �It�s perfectly normal for pilots to name their planes after the women in their life.�
�I�m sure it is,� Elizabeth said innocently. �So� what�s your plane�s name?�
�Samantha,� John said with a smile.
�After� your girlfriend?�
�Nah. I decided a while back that girlfriends come and go, and it�d suck having to rename my plane every time I met someone new,� John said.
�So� who is Samantha?
John was about to respond when McKay came bursting into the office with a stack of files and a harried expression on his face. �Elizabeth, these won�t fit with all the artefacts that we�ve been requested to bring back, can you find a place to squeeze them in with your files?� the astrophysicist said, out of breath and covered in rivulets of rather dirty sweat.
�Uh� John? How much room is left in that crate?� Elizabeth asked.
�Put them on the chair. I�ll make sure they get in� somehow,� John promised. He looked over at Elizabeth. �We�ve been doing this for five hours. I haven�t eaten for two days and that was a wilted salad-like-thing that I still don�t think is food on the grounds that it was vibrant neon pink with orange stripes, though Teyla says it�s got almost everything that Beckett told her we need in our diets. I�ve reached a point where your laptop is literally turning into a giant cartoon steak with butter-smothered green beans and a scoop of mashed potatoes.�
�I hardly think your situation has become that dire, but you are right, we have been at this for a while,� Elizabeth said, her eyes flicking to her watch, though it was probably not accurate given that it was unlikely that the planet they were on had a twenty-four hour day�none of the scientists had been able to accurately determine how long one day was, though, to be fair, they had had their hands full with other more important matters since arriving in their new home. �How much more time do you need, Rodney?� she asked.