Beckett gazed around the room; there was a bed, minus the covers that were in a heap in the corner, a couple uncomfortable looking chairs, and some weapons he'd never seen before. That was it. Ronon went to a hidden cupboard and opened it to reveal several bottles of varying shapes and sizes. He glanced over his shoulder at Beckett and took down the largest along with some metal cups
McKay sneered, "Metal?. Those leave an aftertaste and make your fillings ache."
"What are fillings?"
"Uh, dental work?"
Ronon stared at him blankly, then shrugged, "I used to have mugs from the commissary but the booze ate through them."
"So what are the bottles made out of?"
"Something I found on a Wraith dart."
"Rodney, shut up," said Beckett. Ronon held out a cup to him and he took it eagerly.
McKay was sitting in one chair, and then looking annoyed, moved to another. "Doesn't matter what galaxy you're in, the chairs suck," he complained and headed for the bed.
Beckett giggled. "Who're ye supposed to be? Goldilocks?" and he took a long draw on the booze and sighed, "now tha's my kind o' porridge."
McKay accepted his a little more cautiously. "What exactly is this?"
"Kemmer."
McKay raised an eyebrow. "Yes, thank you, that was extremely helpful. So what exactly is this?"
"Moonshine," Ronon said, and took a large swallow. Beckett tasted his. It reminded him of Jagermeister or ouzo with a strong taste of black licorice. He liked it, and took a longer swig. It was different from the stuff Zelenka had made, thicker, sweeter, burning on his tongue and throat. He looked across the room at the chair McKay had abandoned. The longer he looked, the further away it got, making the floor a better idea. Leaning back against the wall, he slid down. McKay took a sip and wrinkled his nose, coughing.
"This is foul!" he sputtered between gasps.
"But effective," remarked Ronon.