The veritable explosion of what must be some approximation of coarse words immediately drowns out Rush's own perpetual string of growled expletives regarding what, exactly, he thinks of this situation and all elements that may have contributed to make said situation possible, and he startles with a furious jerk of wires and limbs that attempt to align in some sort of defensive coordination. The idea that this configuration may even be possible in Rush's present, heavily impeded state turns out to be an overly optimistic assumption on his part. His reactive jolt sends him pitching onto the ground in the midst of his winding nexus of orphaned cables. The sound he issues may not have sounded entirely dignified.

This, perhaps, should be the least of Rush's problems currently, as this intruder has not sounded particularly dignified either, and what's more is that it is quite assuredly not human.

There are a number of responses that this - thing's appearance calls to mind, some academic, some insightful, many annoyed, most utterly useless, and a very small minority appropriate for addressing this situation in a manner that is both direct and culturally sensitive, as per the SGC-approved criteria for encountering an unknown species.

"Oh fuck," says Rush, though whether out of preemptive embarrassment or trepidation he personally cannot say.