"Not particularly. Hopefully I can get my ass in these and we're not gonna have a problem," Jack says, eyeing the pants critically. Right length, but his middle's gotten a little...spready over the last few years.

He shrugs and heads down the hall, taking an obscenely long shower just because it's warm and the water smells good and not like Atlantis. When he's done, he slides into the clothes (which fit, thank god) and pads back out to Carter with towel-dried hair.

"I believe I may have resurrected. You sure that shower's not a sarcophagus?"