"Well I'm sorry if that's the country the SGC had the most issues with, internationally," Daniel laments, infusing the words with enough melodrama to maintain his good humor. "And they kept sending me to fix those international relations. I don't know what they expected me to do about it. No one there even seemed to like me. Everyone I met told me my grasp of the language was tenuous at best."

He takes a much-too-large swallow of his water and pulls a face.

"Andere Länder, andere Sitten," he mutters, and runs one hand through his hair. Then he abruptly halts mid-motion, looking scandalized. "Oh god," he whispers, plainly horrified, "they were right. That wasn't even Russian."

At this he shoots Seth a vaguely, almost comically suspicious look. "How Irish was that coffee, exactly?"