The air was thick with a cold white mist by the time the team had settled down at the local tavern. It was buzzing with life, the smell of food was in the air and the sound of chatter, cutlery scraping against plates and music, played in the background, one of which could barely be heard over the countless conversations that had filled the tavern with life. John, Ronon, Rodney, Kanan and Teyla all sat comfortably at a rounded table. A large plate of bread rested in the middle of the oak table, with a knife and a choice of spreads to accompany it. A trail of bread crumbs lead up to McKay as another lead to Ronon. Kanan was still eating his bread, with small bites; John had just finished scoffing his down. Teyla had yet to have any and even though she was hungry, she didn't want to eat. The boys had a glass of Russ wine each, something the people of this planet had gained from triad relations with the Athosians. Although Teyla had developed a fond and possible unhealthy taste for the drink, she held a steaming cup of tea in-between her palms. The burning sensation inflicted on her by the warm mug, did nothing to affect her, as she welcomed the felling of warmth, a felling she had not felt for a long time.

"Superman or Batman?" She had faintly heard Rodney ask the colonel.

"Batman," he answered almost immediately, Rodney scoffed.

"You have got to be kidding me," he turned his face to Teyla.

"Teyla? Superman or batman" he asked, but got no response.

"Teyla…" he sang but still only received silence for an answer. She stared off in to the distance, her eyes sad and longing. The colonel followed her gaze, his chest tightening when he saw what had her so interested. A little boy no older then five sat on his fathers lap, his big eyes wide with wonder as his farther spoke to him. A woman sat opposite the two, smiling continuously at the sight before her. John look turned to Teyla again as he resisted the urge to smack Rodney over the head as the scientist waved a frantic hand close to Teyla face. She blinked and looked at the Canadian, annoyance on her face.

"Sorry, what did you say?" She asked apologetically, her sad expression replaced with a passive imitation.

"Superman or batman?" Teyla sighed shaking her head.

"Batman," She said after a few moments smiling slightly at Rodney defeated glare.

"Why?" he asked impatiently, Teyla shrugged.

"I do not know…he has the better outfit." Rodney glared daggers at the Athosian while Ronon tried to strife a laugh. She took a sip of her tea, letting the hot liquid burn the inside of her throat. The music in the background had soon stopped and a large round man, wearing a thick and slightly oversized red robe stepped on a high wooden platform. Raising his hands up in the air he smiled widely and said

"Hello and welcome to our festivities tonight," His voice was deep and slightly slurred, with a cheerful tone to it. His goblet was raised above his had along with his hands, the rich red substance in contained, spilling over his hands and dripping to the floor.

"We are honoured to be accompanied by our old friend Teyla, who has helped us through the good times and the bad, she brings friends to our festival, if Teyla can call these people friends then so can we." He preached as everyone cheered, raising their glasses above their heads. The team did the same. The man that had just spoken stepped down from the platform, striding over to where his visitors sat. he took a seat next Rodney the only seat that was available. He smiled at each person in turn and his eyes rested on the Athosion.

"So how are your people Teyla?" She drew her eyes away from the tea, lifting her head to meet the mans eye. She cleared throat awkwardly gripping the cup in her hands tighter.

"They are…." She stopped, thinking of what to say next, tell the truth and be forced to bear the weight of the mans disappointed glare, or tell a simple white lie avoiding, conflict, discomfort and depression

"Away at the moment." She finished. It was not a lie she thought to her self but it was not the whole truth either. Teyla once again looked in to the liquid of her hot drink, the murky contents almost hypnotic. Some hearty laugh came from across the bar, one that Teyla somehow recognized. Her head shot up, searching for the voices holder, and then she found him, her eyes narrowed in to dark slits. She could hear a distant conversation going on around her, by the few men that sat with her around the table, but she was focused on him and only him.

"You alright Teyla dear, you seem to be wandering?" The jolly mans voice drilled through her ears, distracting her from her target.

"Excuse me", she said without looking away from him, setting her glass on the table and rising from her seat. She started for the man as he walked away from the bar. She stopped when he stopped, smiling angry when he knew something was not quite right,

"Nabal," She sang, as he turned to face her, she kneed him in the groin, dragging him outside the back door of the tavern, throwing him hard to floor. Nabal dragged him self away from her, slowly rising to his feet, shaking off the dizziness that threatened to consume him. He looked up, squinting through his blurred vision. Teyla smiled at his disoriented state, pulling her knife from its sheath. The heels of her boots clacked against the cold and hard concrete floor as she slowly made her way to the man. He stumbled back, his vision finely clearing.

"You!" He crocked, Anger replacing fear. "I thought you were dead." Teyla shook her head.

"You thought wrong," she said then ran a fist in to his face; her knife went to his throat, stopping him from getting up. He swallowed hard, felling the sharp edge of the knife against his Adams apple.

"I will ask you one more time, and you will answer me truthfully, where are my people, who took them?" Nabal was quite at first, but when he felt the sharpness of the knife cut in to the soft skin of his throat he gasped.

" I don't know," he shouted, whimpering as he felt a trickle of blood make its way down his neck, trying to get away from the Athosian. Teyla felt strong arms around her waist, hauling her off her feet, keeping a tight hold around her. Her knife dropped to the floor with a clatter as she struggled against the iron grip she was withheld in. Nabal got to his feet, picking the knife off of the floor while wiping the blood from his neck. He glared at her predatorily, then thrust the knife towards her stomach.