Rodney raised his eyebrows and looked at Isabel before shrugging. "Your funeral," he muttered before he pushed past Carson and him. Since he had the gun, Rodney figured he should be in front. "Stay behind me and don't touch anything."
God, he was starting to sound like Sheppard.
As they walked Rodney tried his best to keep his senses tuned to what was going on around them. He reached down and took his gun out of his holster, and glanced back at Carson and Isabel, his brow furrowing. Carson had to be sick if he wasn't trying to charm the girl with his flinty blue eyes and dimples.
"So, Isabel, where are you from?" Rodney casually asked. "Carson's from Scotland and I'm from Canada."
Rodney was opening his mouth to ask another question but stopped when he saw a familiar figure in the distance. "Carson," he said as he grabbed the other man's arm. He then pointed the gun ahead of them. "Is that Ronon?"