(no subject)

Sinus headache makes it hard to concentrate. Stupid stuffed up and drippy nose.

Right. Today I need to

-- Sort through clothes. Make list of the basic clothes (jeans?) that I need to get before I move. Or maybe after, actually. After all, there's the thrift store right nearby.
-- Tidy office. Put away papers. Pack up books to give to J--. Sort through what's going with me and what's going elsewhere. Throw away old Writers' markets.

Um. There's probably other stuff that I need to do but I can't think of it. Take cold meds, certainly. Head's all stuffed up. Can't think. Can breathe, but I can't think. Meh.

[nano] Stained Glass Masquerade

Thoughts like that, Teyla supposed, were why coming back to Atlantis didn't feel so much like home. Sheppard was still uncharacteristically quiet, his hands tense and tight on the controls as he flew them back. At least this time she knew why, and he knew what was happening, and there was no deceit between them. Only sharp and uncomfortable silences. Well, she supposed, that was better than the alternative. Maybe.

"John…"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Of course he didn't. She looked back out at the view ahead of them, exasperated. Spending time with Michael was looking to be more and more like a holiday and less like a … whatever it had been when she'd started. A very bad idea.

"Are you…"

"Teyla, I am not fine with what you're doing. I'm definitely not fine with what you're doing, but if you've been sneaking out to see him for the past… god knows how long…"

That stung. She wondered if he had meant it to.

"And he hasn't done anything so far, given what he said the last time I ran into him, I'm willing to take your word that he's not a security risk."

Which meant he wouldn't tell Carter, or Ronon, or anyone else he didn't absolutely need to. Teyla slumped a tiny bit in relief.

"Thank you, John."

He shook his head, muttering. "Don't thank me."

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