8

Ronon presses his hands against the door frame, willing himself to knock. He can't do it. He can't do what Sheppard wants. It's just not in him. He sighs heavily, ready to turn and leave. Sheppard can find another way to get the information he wants.

Just as he pushes himself away, the door slides open and Jax stares at him with those cool dark eyes, her face without expression. Once again she surprises him by somehow knowing he was outside her door.

She has changed from the 'dance' clothes, though what she's wearing is still so different from everyone else in the city. The black shirt has no sleeves; barely a thread on either shoulder holding it in place, showing her long, toned arms and the low front exposes the tell-tale defining line of a woman. Even Teyla's clothes do not reveal this much flesh.

Ronon finds the sight distracting and a bit unnerving. Stranger still, he has the urge to tell her to cover up. Even the dark blue pants with the tie at the waist disturb him. They are rolled up to the knees, exposing much of her elegant legs.

Her dark hair hangs in wet ringlets to her shoulders, dripping on the beige bandage wrapped around her right shoulder and waist. It's holding something in place against her back, though she does not allow him to see that. She licks her lips and cocks her head to the side, that same impatient gleam in her eyes. "What now?"

"Can I come in?"

"No."

Ronon leans against the doorframe again as if he's holding up the walls. "Sheppard told me you cut hair."

She starts to unwrap the bandage fastened at her waist, rolling it as she does. "Not his."

Ronon clears his throat. "Will you cut mine?"

Her hands stop moving and she looks at him sharply. After a moment of holding his gaze prisoner, she works on removing the bandage again. "No."

Ronon's brows shoot up. "Why not?"

The remainder of the bandage falls away and he catches a glimpse of an infirmary cold pack as it drops into her right hand behind her back. She turns and tosses the pack onto her bed and though she tries to hide it from him, Ronon sees a large purple and black bruise on her right shoulder blade—a left over from her fall the other day. Her arms gently overlap at her waist, fingers drumming against the opposite arm. "Is this your way of asking me out or something?"

He keeps his expression as neutral as hers. "No." Then tilts his head, considering her. "Why not?"

"You're hair?" He nods. Jax steps closer. "Because dreads fit you."

"Dreads?"

"That's what they're called on Earth. Dreadlocks. Works for you." She sniffs. "Especially the dread part." She looks up, obviously studying his wild mane and sighs, sliding her lower jaw to the side. "It could use a good shampooing and some conditioning though." She steps even closer and he smells something sweet coming from her skin. Flowers or fruit. "Meet me in the mess at eleven-thirty tonight." And with that, she palms the control and the door shuts in his face.

"Good for you," Sheppard says, stuffing dinner into his mouth. "Your first date."

"It's not a date."

Sheppard grins. "Sure. Where are you meeting her?"

"Here."

His brows cinch. "Here?"

"Eleven-thirty. When is that any way?"

Sheppard shows him the time piece. "2230 hours. After the kitchen closes. We really need to get you a watch."

"One of those?" Sheppard nods. Ronon digs into his own food. "Sounds good."

After eating in silence for some time, Sheppard's brows crease again. "Here?" Ronon shrugs and Sheppard shakes his head. "Well. Gotta start somewhere." After a few more bites, he adds. "It should be on the left, just under the collar bone."

"Close call."

"Yeah." He raises his brows. "I doubt she's going to show it to you, though."

"Saw it."

Sheppard's brows raise and his eyes open wide. "Really? Don't you move fast."

"Saw the spot. No scar." Sheppard's brow wrinkles and he tugs on his lower lip. Ronon shovels in more food, talking around it. "There's an off-color patch there though."

Sheppard's eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"

"Skin's a different color from the rest around it. A little darker, but only if you're looking for it. About the right size for what you're thinking." Ronon sips his drink. "How'd you guess?"

"Recognized the name."

"Important family on your planet or something?"

"Or something." Sheppard rocks his head from side-to-side, pushing his food around the plate. "That…and…I always followed news about the Olympics, since I was a kid."

"Those the contests you mentioned."

"Yeah."

Sheppard leans forward, motioning with his fork for emphasis. "And if any of my men find out," he meets Ronon's eyes. "I'll know who to hunt down."

"Why's that?"

He closes his eyes, speaking low, barely moving his mouth. "It's an Earth thing…a macho… guys don't watch that particular event...thing." After another moment, he adds. "If there's a similar mark on her back…then we'd know."

"Why is this important? Like you said, she passed the background check."

Sheppard grimaces. "That whole thing might be a lie. Except for the part about the military having to track her down. Must've pulled some serious strings on that one."

"And that's a problem."

He shrugs. "Probably not. But I'd rather be certain…than…not certain." He sips his drink. "I just like to know who I'm working with is all."

"You don't like Dr. Weir knowing something you don't."

Sheppard nods with a smirk. "There is that."

"Why not ask her?"

Sheppard's brow rises. "Like you said. She's like you. Not exactly forthcoming with the information."