The eyebrows simply slide upward as this other man becomes continuously more aggravated, but Daniel simply watches patiently as he loops back around from criticizing terminology to his former insistent questioning. The disorientation of ending up in a box in a dream in another universe is something that Daniel, unbelievably, has some experience with.

"Not that I know of," he answers. "Usually they're pretty scattered. Here, uh." And the hand comes out politely. "Daniel Jackson." With just enough tentative expectation for a name in return, and a faint, hopefully friendly smile.