Mighty peculiar.
Staying at General O'Neill's cabin here, and playin' poker with the team.
Oh, that wasn't the peculiar part, although I admit it was a bit strange to have General Landry whump our asses off in the game.
No, it was about Sam.
How she knew where the cards were, and the extra matches and candles when the lights went out again.
How the heck did she know that the bottom drawer in the chest by the fishing tackle hid the good stuff, instead of the usual beer we had brought?
And the vaguely familiar smell of her perfume as she bent over the table suddenly became clear at 3 am when I buried my head deep in the pillow and sniffed again.
My grandma always said I had instincts like a bloodhound.
Now I know why she likes cake better than my macaroons.
