For the brief time that he lived in Antarctica, Rodney had a recurring nightmare. In the dream, he was outside and there was a polar bear. Looking at him. Looking at him like he was a very tasty lunch.

Ronon doesn't look much like a polar bear. Just a little bit around the mouth.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Rodney asks, and he's totally flustered, so he doesn't even wait for an answer. "I mean, you don't exactly spend a lot of time in the lab. You're much more likely to be in the gym cracking skulls, or in the mess hall eating...well, everything, so, is there something you need?"

Ronon uncrosses his arms, then recrosses them over his chest and lifts one eyebrow slightly.

"Do you know what a polar bear is?" Rodney asks. "Because you remind me of one. Except they have white fur. And they're bears."

The eyebrow lifts further.

"So? What is it? What do you want?" Rodney's voice goes up an octave by the end of the sentence.

Ronon straightens, then he grins, and Rodney feels a little bit cold. "When you figure it out," Ronon says, turning to go. "I'll be in my room."