There's a haphazardly wrapped present on her desk when she returns from having lunch. It's tied with fine thread; a sheet of paper with odd notes (Rodney's, she guesses) serves as wrapping paper.
A smile tugs at her lips and she walks up to her desk. She reaches for the parcel, picks it up and weighs it in her mind. Though it is larger than her hand, it isn't heavy.
She gingerly picks at the thread, watches the paper fall loose. A length of wood carved with intricate patterns is revealed. It's beautiful. Stunning.
"Ronon," she realizes.
Her smile widens.