And the city is a busy place.
Jack's on the Main Gauche grounds, looking for one of 'his' kids and trying to avoid the other. Elashte still has him on what amounts to a restraining order against Toshiko, and he hasn't seen Suzie in... a while. And he doesn't like not knowing how his team is doing.
Even when they're not-
To hell with it. There isn't any hiding from some things. Torchwood is going to be his team come hell or high geiger, and he's going to worry about them. He couldn't excise that part of himself when he tried.
Elsewhere in the Gauche, Tachi is restless. Very restless. There's nothing to hunt here. Luther got blown up. There's enforced peace on the grounds. There's a war brewing and an undercurrent of tension in the air that's easy to feel. And nothing to hunt here.
It's enough to make an Angel of Vengeance mad.
So Tachi it at the gate, counting seconds. Heading out or being stopped - they're both options, but the streets are calling.
And Elashte is in a pleasant corner of the courtyard on a lawn chair, idly enjoying a spot of evening sun and playing his violin. He hasn't had the presence of mind to bring the old thing out, but now that things seem quiet for a moment - Luther's gone, and as sure as he is that Romana will come sooner rather than later, at this very moment, nothing is crashing down around him.
What he's playing is very improvisational, but one may recognize it as, at its heart, a cooled-down, laid-back version of Watermelon Man.
Malek and Anya are, to buck a pattern, not out getting ice cream. They were out getting pizza, and are now on a pleasant stroll through Cicero's residential districts. For once Anya is somewhat animated, chatting about life at the Main Gauch. Malek is grinning fit to burst, hands stuffed in his pocket, breath reeking of anchovies.
In a coffeeshop in Chicago, far enough from the yellow trucks clearing away the wreckage of The Coffee Shop, Maya is just arriving and eyeing their triple-shot espressos. They're still looking into a rash of crimes at the hotel, including the assassination of the Mayor, and without access to things like police reports, Maya is beginning to feel like they're treading water. And then this thing about joining Torchwood...
On the one hand, it's a job. A job actually doing something, maybe making a difference. And they seem to make some difference, even if she's not sure what it was. They set up the now-defunct panic buttons. Had some involvement with the Calisto cleanup. On the other, joining up with Torchwood seems just as sure a way of diving into this war as joining up with Romana would.
Owen Harper has passed over the coffeeshops entirely in pursuit of a bar. What with his building going insane and his boss - and he's still a bit rankled at that, Jack promoting her over her seniors, even when she was the one who took over when he was gone anyway, that's hardly the point, is it? - not seeming to notice that their building had gone insane, a stiff drink or three is definitely something he needs.
In a residential district elsewhere, Dmitri has located the Casa del OT3. She's also let herself in and promptly installed herself on the couch.
She might have some follow-up questions on something for the Doctor. She might also just be bored. It's... kinda hard to tell, with Dmitri.
A floor above, the TARDIS has just come back from ceasing to exist again and is none too happy about this fact. To that end she's looked for the nearest pack psychic imprint in the range of sympathy/unhappiness and parked herself in what she can glean is a comforting shape there. Sometimes, you just need someone to share your misery with, especially if there are no options for changing it.
To that end, she's on top of Des' bed in the shape of a clean and polished corvette.
Back at the Conrad Hotel, the Vesmier is finally returning to consciousness. These last few hours weren't a trance but a deep sleep - even healing trances take energy, and repairing a heart isn't exactly easy. At least, not for all.
He's still a bit stiff, but he's opening his eyes.
And finally, out somewhere between Chicago and Cicero, the Rani is walking her dog. She may or may not also be taking surreptitious genetic samples of things. These things may or may not include bark and the odd human hair.
It's really best not to ask.
Even when they're not-
To hell with it. There isn't any hiding from some things. Torchwood is going to be his team come hell or high geiger, and he's going to worry about them. He couldn't excise that part of himself when he tried.
Elsewhere in the Gauche, Tachi is restless. Very restless. There's nothing to hunt here. Luther got blown up. There's enforced peace on the grounds. There's a war brewing and an undercurrent of tension in the air that's easy to feel. And nothing to hunt here.
It's enough to make an Angel of Vengeance mad.
So Tachi it at the gate, counting seconds. Heading out or being stopped - they're both options, but the streets are calling.
And Elashte is in a pleasant corner of the courtyard on a lawn chair, idly enjoying a spot of evening sun and playing his violin. He hasn't had the presence of mind to bring the old thing out, but now that things seem quiet for a moment - Luther's gone, and as sure as he is that Romana will come sooner rather than later, at this very moment, nothing is crashing down around him.
What he's playing is very improvisational, but one may recognize it as, at its heart, a cooled-down, laid-back version of Watermelon Man.
Malek and Anya are, to buck a pattern, not out getting ice cream. They were out getting pizza, and are now on a pleasant stroll through Cicero's residential districts. For once Anya is somewhat animated, chatting about life at the Main Gauch. Malek is grinning fit to burst, hands stuffed in his pocket, breath reeking of anchovies.
In a coffeeshop in Chicago, far enough from the yellow trucks clearing away the wreckage of The Coffee Shop, Maya is just arriving and eyeing their triple-shot espressos. They're still looking into a rash of crimes at the hotel, including the assassination of the Mayor, and without access to things like police reports, Maya is beginning to feel like they're treading water. And then this thing about joining Torchwood...
On the one hand, it's a job. A job actually doing something, maybe making a difference. And they seem to make some difference, even if she's not sure what it was. They set up the now-defunct panic buttons. Had some involvement with the Calisto cleanup. On the other, joining up with Torchwood seems just as sure a way of diving into this war as joining up with Romana would.
Owen Harper has passed over the coffeeshops entirely in pursuit of a bar. What with his building going insane and his boss - and he's still a bit rankled at that, Jack promoting her over her seniors, even when she was the one who took over when he was gone anyway, that's hardly the point, is it? - not seeming to notice that their building had gone insane, a stiff drink or three is definitely something he needs.
In a residential district elsewhere, Dmitri has located the Casa del OT3. She's also let herself in and promptly installed herself on the couch.
She might have some follow-up questions on something for the Doctor. She might also just be bored. It's... kinda hard to tell, with Dmitri.
A floor above, the TARDIS has just come back from ceasing to exist again and is none too happy about this fact. To that end she's looked for the nearest pack psychic imprint in the range of sympathy/unhappiness and parked herself in what she can glean is a comforting shape there. Sometimes, you just need someone to share your misery with, especially if there are no options for changing it.
To that end, she's on top of Des' bed in the shape of a clean and polished corvette.
Back at the Conrad Hotel, the Vesmier is finally returning to consciousness. These last few hours weren't a trance but a deep sleep - even healing trances take energy, and repairing a heart isn't exactly easy. At least, not for all.
He's still a bit stiff, but he's opening his eyes.
And finally, out somewhere between Chicago and Cicero, the Rani is walking her dog. She may or may not also be taking surreptitious genetic samples of things. These things may or may not include bark and the odd human hair.
It's really best not to ask.