Chapter Text
"Oh bollocks" [Capt. Avery, about four times per mission]
"How do you feel about your own performance?" [Maj. Lorne's favourite opening of an evaluation]
"Ah, the daily tribute to the fire gods!" [Col. Sheppard, as a stack of paperwork is brought into his office]
"What are these? They look sort of nice, like a game.... Maybe to make my daughter happy, she likes to play with shiny things." [Capt. Bahir, negotiating for an entire basket of control chrystals]
"All right, let's file this under 'Nobody is ever to speak of this again', and move on." [Capt. Avery]
"I SAID FIRE IN THE FUCKING HOLE!" [Lt. Cadman, explaining the intricacies of explosives handling to a new Marine]
"Noted for the report: none of the local wildlife tasted of bacon. I'm sure the Xenobiology department will be delighted with your experiments." [Maj. Lorne]
"If I have to put down my surfboard to get any of you out of trouble, you will wish they had pulled General O'Neill from his fishing cabin instead." [Col. Sheppard, going on Earth leave at the same time as a platoon of Marines]
"What cack-handed wanker has touched these settings?" [Capt. Avery]
"They've got us by the goolies, sir." [Capt Avery]
"What kind of ritual?" [every. single. officer, because you only say 'we'd be honoured' before asking this ONCE]
"Do you see a bed anywhere here?" [Lt. Brittner, after comments about her bedside manner]
"Is it a Tuesday? We always get Hive ships on Tuesdays." [Col. Sheppard]
"Oh look, the Fuck-up Fairy has visited again." [Lt. Cadman]
"Oh, it'll be a doddle, sir." [Capt. Avery]
"Wat is dis? You kukhuvud! Have you not heard of Pey Pey Eh?!" [Kapten Lundgren, when finding somebody sitting unsecured on a pier ledge]
"CHAAAARGE!" [Lt. Arroyo, putting torch batteries into the jumper charger]
"Ma'am, aliens made me do it." [Col. Sheppard, when asked why he arrived back inebriated]
"Lieutenant, marry me. That's an order."
"A wedding or death by fire. You make a compelling proposal, sir."
[Capt. Avery and Lt. Brittner]
"My people also have ritual for successful trade deals." [Capt. Bahir, teaching a new trade contact to high-five]
"Well, this looks like a spilled cup of fuck." [Lt. Cadman, inspecting the interior of a jumper that had an inertial dampener failure]