[ Day to day life in Atlantis has actually been really good. It's nothing to do with that. Just ---he tries not to dwell on the days between the last time he saw his friends alive and now. He knows none of them would want that. It isn't easy, and more than once in the past week he's woken up tangled in his bedsheets swearing he could feel sand and blood on his palms and between his fingers. That he could feel the dead weight of trying to drag one of his best friends out of an impossible situation. ]

Ouch. I've heard they are impossible to get away from once you win a round. They just keep pestering you until you cave so they can try to get their money back.

[ John still watches the waves as it laps away the beer just poured for those no longer with him into the ocean. It's a hell of a thing to spring on somebody, but how do you invite someone out to share a beer with you and some ghosts? It's a little awkward, and he's never quite managed it. Ronon was easier---he knew he understood it. McKay just didn't ask after he realized it, and they were usually out here anyways. ]

To buddies and views.

[ He nods, lifts the can, and takes another swig. ]

They would have loved the mainland. The waves out there. If I never see another desert, it'll be too soon. The only sand I like is the beach.