Ficlet: Testing The New Boy
Title: Testing The New Boy
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Ianto, Suzie.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 323
Summary: Ianto is defying Owen’s expectations.
Spoilers: Nada. Set pre-series, soon after Ianto joins Torchwood Three.
Written For: enmuse’s comment_fic prompt ‘any, any, "Severed limbs are hazardous waste".’
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood or any of the characters. Which is sad.
Jones is new to all this, but Owen’s surprised - and not a little impressed, though he’ll never let on - by the way Jack’s new hire seems to take everything in stride. Right now he’s cleaning up after Owen’s latest autopsy, yellow rubber gloves on his hands and a fastidious expression on his face.
“What should I do with these?” He’s standing there in his immaculate three-piece suit, brandishing two tentacles, one in each hand, and looking enquiringly at Owen, one eyebrow raised, as if he does this kind of thing every day. It throws Owen for a moment.
“Oh, uh, severed limbs are hazardous waste. They go in the incinerator.”
“Sure you won’t need them for later, Doctor Harper? I could freeze them in the morgue for you if you’d prefer. Once they’re incinerated that’s it.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ve taken all the samples I need. Nothing else I can find out from what’s left, no point using up valuable storage space for no good reason. Just burn the whole lot. At least that way it’s providing useful power.”
“Whatever you say.” Jones bungs the tentacles in his big, bag-lined bin with the other waste, wipes down the autopsy table thoroughly and drops the used wipes in the bin before tying the bag. “I’ll be back to mop the floor once I’ve disposed of this then,” he says with a genial smile. “You might want to watch where you tread until that’s done though. There seems to have been a fair amount of spillage.” He trundles his wheeled bin across the floor and up the steps, disappearing in the direction of the furnace room.
Owen stares after him, frowning. “That guy can’t be human,” he says to Suzie, who’s been watching proceedings, leaning on the railing that surrounds the autopsy pit. “Nothing fazes him in the slightest.”
Suzie smiles speculatively. “Something will, eventually. I think it’s going to be interesting finding out what.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Ianto, Suzie.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 323
Summary: Ianto is defying Owen’s expectations.
Spoilers: Nada. Set pre-series, soon after Ianto joins Torchwood Three.
Written For: enmuse’s comment_fic prompt ‘any, any, "Severed limbs are hazardous waste".’
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood or any of the characters. Which is sad.
Jones is new to all this, but Owen’s surprised - and not a little impressed, though he’ll never let on - by the way Jack’s new hire seems to take everything in stride. Right now he’s cleaning up after Owen’s latest autopsy, yellow rubber gloves on his hands and a fastidious expression on his face.
“What should I do with these?” He’s standing there in his immaculate three-piece suit, brandishing two tentacles, one in each hand, and looking enquiringly at Owen, one eyebrow raised, as if he does this kind of thing every day. It throws Owen for a moment.
“Oh, uh, severed limbs are hazardous waste. They go in the incinerator.”
“Sure you won’t need them for later, Doctor Harper? I could freeze them in the morgue for you if you’d prefer. Once they’re incinerated that’s it.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ve taken all the samples I need. Nothing else I can find out from what’s left, no point using up valuable storage space for no good reason. Just burn the whole lot. At least that way it’s providing useful power.”
“Whatever you say.” Jones bungs the tentacles in his big, bag-lined bin with the other waste, wipes down the autopsy table thoroughly and drops the used wipes in the bin before tying the bag. “I’ll be back to mop the floor once I’ve disposed of this then,” he says with a genial smile. “You might want to watch where you tread until that’s done though. There seems to have been a fair amount of spillage.” He trundles his wheeled bin across the floor and up the steps, disappearing in the direction of the furnace room.
Owen stares after him, frowning. “That guy can’t be human,” he says to Suzie, who’s been watching proceedings, leaning on the railing that surrounds the autopsy pit. “Nothing fazes him in the slightest.”
Suzie smiles speculatively. “Something will, eventually. I think it’s going to be interesting finding out what.”
The End