"You," said Four, "are the laziest excuse for a god around."
"That's not what you said last night," Seven said with a smirk.
Seven was lounging on one of the couches with a beer, his shirt stained with some unidentifiable substance. Such a slob, Four thought. He would never have jumped into bed with him if Three hadn't mentioned that Seven had learned some trick with his tongue, and it was damned amazing. Three had been right, but Seven was refusing to share the secret of the trick. The bastard.
On the other couch, Eight sat with a tray containing a giant mess of crisps and some kind of yellow-orange goo. Of all of them, Eight was getting a bit chubby around the middle.
On the other hand, from the looks Eight was getting, Nine found the chubby middle quite sexy. Were Four into betting he'd wager on Eight and Nine locking themselves in one of the bedrooms within an hour.
"Nacho?" Eight said, offering up the tray.
"Oh, is that what that is," replied Four, pushing the tray away, trying not to show his disdain at the gooey mess. Apparently he failed, judging from the flash of sadness on Eight's face.
It was disturbing, really. Sometimes Eight acted almost like a Tau'ri. The next time he saw One he was going to have to talk to him about Eight. Really, the guy must have had an accident in the cloner. It was the only explanation.
Five stalked into the room, face scowling yet again.
“Have a nice day at the office today, dear?” Four asked him, with only the slightest trace of sarcasm. Five was known for his twitchy temper. Five and Four switched out playing Alex Johannsson, CEO of Farrow-Marshall. The change between them apparently had the underlings complaining of their boss’s mood swings.
Five responded by snarling and throwing his briefcase onto a table so hard it skidded off the other edge. Fortunately it didn’t break open, which would have led to an argument over who should pick up the papers. While normally one of the Jaffa or other slaves should handle it, they didn’t like anyone but themselves getting into the company’s paperwork.
As Five went to fix himself a drink of single malt scotch, Four grabbed the briefcase and started flipping through the papers inside. Next week it was his turn again as the big boss, unless One showed up as threatened. He rather hoped One was coming. Life here was getting dull and routine. They needed something new to spice things up. Someone or something besides themselves.