That reaction evokes some hesitation. That is - very un-Goa'uld like. They don't express fear, not even when faced with certain death, just that sheer overpowering arrogance. And now, abruptly, that conclusion doesn't seem quite so solid as Daniel assumed. He gave Seth a gun, even, and the man was too choked up to use it and then promptly dropped it somewhere in the mad scramble. He's so obviously unsuited to combat of any sort. None of it factors in under system lord.

So. Just another one of Daniel's wonderful intuitive leaps, as usual. With a faint, self-disgusted sigh Daniel drops the gun away from Seth's chest.

"Damnit." He wishes he had a free hand to run it over his eyes but the other hand is still bearing the grenades, and his stomach twists sickeningly at the thought. "Damn. I - I'm sorry, there's no excuse for - I thought you were, well. Doesn't matter."

He wishes he could sit and breathe and just think all of this through but with the half-razed city and the threat of bombs, missiles, rebels possibly coming pouring out of the woodwork at any minute, he knows they can't afford to.

"Fuck," says Daniel, and that's a word that doesn't often get injected into his lexicon.