"Yes, really." John glanced over his shoulder, but no one stood nearby. "You think this is some kind of joke?"
Carson gave him a skeptical look. “Given your history, Major? In a nutshell, yes.”
John sighed as he stepped further into Carson’s office, away from passersby. “One little prank, and I’m labeled for life.”
”One?” Carson’s eyebrow went up, then he relented. “Verra well, let me see.”
John hesitated, frowning. “Doctor-patient confidentiality here, right, doctor?”
Carson managed to look offended. “O’ course, Major Sheppard. I took the Hypocratic Oath, and wouldna do anything t’ harm a soul.”
“Uh-huh.” John narrowed his eyes at Carson before relenting. “Okay.”
Carson eyes slid south to where John unzipped his pants, and widened slightly. “You really weren’t kiddin’, Major.”
“Thank you. Now what can we do about it?”
Carson squatted down. “Pants out of the way, I can’t examine it properly.”
“Oh, for....” John yanked his pants and briefs down past his hips, shivering slightly as the cool air hit his naked ass.
“Hmm. Good job. Lovely calligraphy.”
John jerked his pants back up over his exposed bits in front and glared his best death-glare. “All I want is a way to get rid of it, doc, not comments about its esthetic beauty.”
Carson stood up, a slow, wicked grin finally breaking past the mock-seriousness. “Well, now, lad, the permanent marker ink will wash off...eventually. With a lot of washing. And seein’ how Rodney’s labeled it as his personal property, I’d suggest you, ah, go ask him for a hand.”
John growled as he closed and tucked his clothes, whirling out of the doctor’s office to the sound of Carson’s chuckled advice.
”And stay away from predatory alien women!”