Title: until we fall asleep
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Rating: General Audiences
Length: 397
Author's note: actually a reference to the Black Ribboners of Discworld
Summary: "Is it a Simpsons reference, sir?"


If not for years upon years of training in the essential art of waiting around patiently for something to happen, boredom would be an absolute killer. Still, elite group or not, they have to have some way of breaking up the tedium without breaking up the sanity of all involved.

"Your turn Captain." So it is. Which is great. He was just waiting for it to come around again.

"I spy with my two good eyes ..." Hm. What hasn't been before? Not exactly in an area rife with objects, the cage withstanding. Still, at least no ones bleeding or otherwise injured, falling for the drop trap or not.

There's an idea.

"... Not vun drop of it about the place."

Carter blinks, Daniel frowns, and Teal'c gives him a slow measured look. It's the one he uses when he's reserving judgement, while still expressing an amazing degree of judgement about the person he's looking at. An outstanding look, really. Every so often Jack wonders if he should put in the time in front of a mirror to replicate it. And then, same as always, he concludes (not without reason) that he'd be detained on grounds of being possessed, which negates the usefulness of effort.

"...Is it a Simpons reference, sir?"

Usually about now they'd collectively demand that he pick another, something they have more chance of divining. But they are all in this for the long haul, promising as that suggestion of a human ladder had been. Cultural osmosis is a fine thing.

"Close. And at the the same time, no. But there is an element of truth about the answer in your answer." See, he can talk like a fortune cookie. Not that he's ever been accused of not talking like a philosophical dictionary before.

"Sir." Carter looks like she's regretting not objecting sooner. Fair's fair, Jack's regretting not realizing they were walking on a trapdoor sooner too. Teal'c is eying the walls again. Who knows, a third might work before their lack of check in is noticed. Daniel ... Daniel has folded over like some sort of prawn and is hitting his head against the floor.

Jack frowns. That won't do at all. If he keeps that up his clue will be invalidated. Like a parking ticket, but backwards.
The ground thunks. A distinctly hollow thunk.

"New round. I spy with Daniel's head - "