Just a little scene that has been dancing around in the back of my brain.
The table, constructed of a pressed organic material, is all that separates the Wraith and his human counterpart. Perching across the dull, brown expanse, artificial light reflects within their unwavering stare while the overhead clock ticks. The clock's measured precision is the only sound as the air between them becomes a solid mass.
"It will never happen." Haughty in his confidence, the human crosses his arms clutching at material sheathing his flesh.
Leaning forward, the Wraith places his hands, palms down, on the table's smooth surface and drawls, "Are you so sure John Sheppard?"
The human sucks a breath and repeats more for his benefit than the Wraith's, "I said it will never happen."
The clock ticks but the Wraith is unmovable. His eyes bore into the human's. Soon enough, uncertainty seeps through the pair's unconventional bond and the human's fingers loosen their grasp on stiff fabric.
The Wraith notes his human's doubt with a nod.
"I have spent a millennium studying human nature." Sliding his hands from the center of the table, the Wraith leaves a trail of fluid from where his palm rested. "The time will come when your Superiors recognize my nature as a 'gift' and they will seek to use my 'gifts' to their advantage."
"And I said that will never happen." The human punctuates each word with sharp clicks of his tongue but denial colors the human's rebuttal because, as they both know, the Wraith is right.