215 & Dorm Computer Labs: Wee Hours of Thursday morning
Jack pulled on a pair of jeans and made his way down to the computer labs to respond to the email. He'd gone to bed determined to ignore it, but bad dreams had disturbed his sleep, their shadows lingering long after he woke.
To: bob.johnson@trips4cheap.com
From: jack.harkness@fandomhigh.net
Subject: Mexico Vacation for You
What I don't know isn't hurting me. I can keep not knowing it. Trust me or don't. Tell me or don't. I'm not going to play games.
>the way I wanted to, fool, and all the time you were egging me on and
>"I don't need that for courage, Mr. Schuhart. I'd rather have coffee,
>believe this thing grants wishes?"
>You want information on Torchwood.
>A mutual acquaintance told you what that place is. That you're mentioned in
>their files - favourably - tells me I can't trust you. That mutual
>acquaintance thinks I should.
>Cheap mexcian vacation - click here. All your trips for cheap, cheap flights.
>Guaranteed best available.
>I'm willing to give you a chance. And here it is: convince me. Why I should
>tell you. Why I should trust you. You've got 48 hours. After that, replies
>will bounce.
>You won't get a second chance.
>Hotels first class.
>Free breakfast, click links for best deals.
>from here, lies Poodle. In the same condition. Do you understand? Forward."
>machine, he thought. You made a machine out of me. The broken rocks at
>the
What the hell. It would either bounce or it wouldn't. At this point he was having great success in convincing himself he didn't care. And he could keep on doing it forever.
Stumbling back into his room, he stripped off his jeans and colllapsed on the bed.
He was asleep in seconds.
[ooc: contents of email nfb, please.]
To: bob.johnson@trips4cheap.com
From: jack.harkness@fandomhigh.net
Subject: Mexico Vacation for You
What I don't know isn't hurting me. I can keep not knowing it. Trust me or don't. Tell me or don't. I'm not going to play games.
>the way I wanted to, fool, and all the time you were egging me on and
>"I don't need that for courage, Mr. Schuhart. I'd rather have coffee,
>believe this thing grants wishes?"
>You want information on Torchwood.
>A mutual acquaintance told you what that place is. That you're mentioned in
>their files - favourably - tells me I can't trust you. That mutual
>acquaintance thinks I should.
>Cheap mexcian vacation - click here. All your trips for cheap, cheap flights.
>Guaranteed best available.
>I'm willing to give you a chance. And here it is: convince me. Why I should
>tell you. Why I should trust you. You've got 48 hours. After that, replies
>will bounce.
>You won't get a second chance.
>Hotels first class.
>Free breakfast, click links for best deals.
>from here, lies Poodle. In the same condition. Do you understand? Forward."
>machine, he thought. You made a machine out of me. The broken rocks at
>the
What the hell. It would either bounce or it wouldn't. At this point he was having great success in convincing himself he didn't care. And he could keep on doing it forever.
Stumbling back into his room, he stripped off his jeans and colllapsed on the bed.
He was asleep in seconds.
[ooc: contents of email nfb, please.]