Originally Posted: Aug. 12th, 2007
Length/Rating: 439 words, PG, Gen
Summary: Sometimes it’s all about appearances. Written for sga_flashfic‘s Cake or Death challenge.
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“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Ronon was leaning against the cell’s far wall, arms crossed and wearing the thoughtful frown that normally signaled impending doom for whatever was confounding him. Which at the moment was one increasingly frantic, claustrophobic astrophysicist.
“Cake or death, it wasn’t that hard.” Rodney tried to angle his arm through the bars to reach the wrought iron lock, much to the guards’ amusement. “All you had to do was say ‘cake’ and we’d be out of here, but no, you had to pick ‘none of the above’; which I would like to point out was not a choice, and now we’re stuck who knows how many miles underground.”
Ronon shrugged, “They wouldn’t say what kind of cake.”
“What does it matter what kind of cake?” Rodney poked the keyhole with a stick he’d found in the cell, trying to wedge it into the lock. “It’s not like they wanted me to eat it. It could have been lemon with lemon icing and lemon sprinkles and it wouldn’t have mattered!”
“It still could have been poisoned.”
“Then what would be the point of offering us the choice in the first place?” Rodney cursed as the stick broke, glaring at the guards who were chattering away in their native language and grinning at him.
“They might have meant ‘slow death by poisoning’ or ‘fast death by axe’.”
“So the choices are death or death?” Rodney had retreated into the corner to glare at the guards. “What kind of planet is this?”
“You defiled the Eye of Uelan, what did you expect?”
“It was just a toaster!”
“Next time keep that to yourself.” John waved to the guards as he and his royal escort entered the mini-prison, and they reluctantly left their posts to unlock the cell. “Although it did make the insanity defense a lot easier to–“
“You pled insanity?!” Rodney pushed on the cell door impatiently, “I am not now, nor was I ever–“
“Good choice.” Ronan pushed off of the wall, grinning at the guards, who scattered as soon as the door was unlocked. “We leaving?”
“No, we’re staying around to see what other mind-numbingly stupid ways these idiots can think to offer us death, death, or more death.” Rodney pushed past him to storm back up the tunnels to the surface. “Of course we’re leaving!”
“Good. I’m hungry.”
At which point the royal magistrate of the Southern Kingdom of the planet soon to be referred to in mission reports as ‘Rodney Potter and the Deathly Petit Fours’ decided that he had made the right decision after all. These people were nuts.