Once they attain a certain level of academic standing, scientists become masters of self-preservation. Most of them would rather sell their Grandmother than give anything away in front of each other. Paranoia isn't just a hobby; it's a lifestyle. Rodney McKay has made a career out of keeping secrets. Area 51. Cheyenne Mountain. Siberia. Antarctica. At-freaking-lantis.

This time, he's fooling nobody.

Elizabeth notices, but she doesn't say anything. Secrets are the currency of the diplomat, but also the bond of the friend. Teyla sees it clearly, but to ask would be improper somehow, at least according to the rules they try to explain. Ronon's good at watching, so that's what he does. That, and roll his eyes. Radek notes it early on and hides his own smile - Rodney wouldn't appreciate it anyway.

John notices it, too. It's a thrill, seeing someone else so happy to see him. It's been a while since his entry into a room has been met with anything but scorn and derision and blank expressions. Rodney couldn't be blank if he wanted to, and when those blue eyes light on his face and start to sparkle, John can't keep the corners of his mouth from curling up, can't stop himself from glancing down and then back up again - can't stop himself from basking just a little.