(no subject)

Jun 01, 2008 18:03

Jack is, when he wants to be, one efficient SOB. So he's got Hart processed, searched, and locked away in the cages with his nose stuffed and a note to any doctors who feel like taking pity on the poor sociopath before his team can tear down their setup in the conference room. Then, once he's got Hart's entire personal arsenal, his wrist device, and more or less everything except the clothes on his back, he teleports into his room and locks the door.

Teleporting this much, with a wrist device as broken as his, without a capsule to soften the effects on the body, is a bad idea at the absolute best of times. He materializes in his room (a feat in itself) with a foul mood, serious nausea, and a splitting headache, drops the confiscated stuff, pulls off his own greatcoat to drop it on the pile, and heads for the bathroom.

Where he immediately throws up an impressive amount of alcohol, and most of a pub lunch.

Fucking bar food. Fucking malfunctioning teleport. Fucking John Hart, making him dig so deep into his own personal darkness he's not actually sure if he's out again yet.

It's not uncommon - in fact, it's usual - to have some down time between mission completion and debriefing. It'll afford him the time to take a shower and some painkillers. At the moment, he's giving serious consideration to tranqing himself out and letting the headache pass.

If only other issues were so easily resolved.

revan onasi, captain jack harkness

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