Mama tried to wash their faces, but these kids, they lost their graces.
Beyond having occasional chats with alien lifeforms, Marshall has mostly been holed up in his usual spot inside the CCTV room, keeping track of everything he can possibly think to keep track up and trying to avoid thinking about how hopeless this situation has gotten, because Marshall J. Flinkman does not dwell on hopelessness. At the moment,
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"...Thank you, Marshall," she says slowly, and then pauses. "I'll ask how you came to that conclusion later." Considering Sam couldn't communicate with the robot in any way that didn't leave him wanting to hit his head against the nearest flat surface... But it's not important now.
The fact that one of Thane's prisoners is free, though... That's actually more unsettling than it is comforting. "Sam, if you could meet me in the lobby...?"
"I'm on my way."
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Meanwhile, in the lobby, if Sark looked like Hell on Toast when he first met with Sydney, it's nothing compared to what he looks like now. Being emotionally repressed for most of his life and then going through more emotion than he really ever wanted to have to deal with in the course of an hour was not the best way to put an end to this whole affair or really good for his current mental state. He's tired, emotionally drained, hurting in more ways than one, and he just wants to convince Torchwood he's worthless and not have to deal with anything for awhile.
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"What happened?" she asks as soon as she gets within comfortable speaking distance. Sydney sighs, and glances over to Sark. He gets to field the questions, considering this was his stupid idea, and while neither of them can lie with Sam in the room... one of them is less likely to tell the whole truth.
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He forces himself to look Gwen in the eye, trying to convey a certain amount of cold placidity. "Thane wanted to send you lot a message to prevent you from crossing him again, and if I didn't prove to him that I was worth more to him alive, that message was going to be in the form of sending me back in pieces. After fourteen hours of contemplating my own execution... I told him that killing me would have no effect. I offered to trade Dmitri Lang's life for mine, but he refused that offer ( ... )
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"Considering we're expecting company, would you like me to see to that while you deal with... this?"
Oh, please, Gwen, give him something useful to do before his head implodes.
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She swings her attention back to Sark, trying to remember to breathe. One of the hostages is dead. One of them is dead and what's to stop Tosh from being the next one? She looks to Sam, and he nods slightly - he's not lying. Gwen almost wishes he were.
Her jaw tightens. "You're going to sit down with Marshall and Sam. Anything you have to add to the building plans you drew up before, you're going to tell Marshall, and absolutely anything you can tell us about Thane and his prisoners. And then..."
God, she doesn't know what to do with him. She doesn't feel comfortable just letting him go, but... "I'll take care of it," Sam says, and Gwen nods tightly. They don't have much time. April's dead. How much longer until it's Dmitri, or Tosh...? She has the Rani to deal with, soon enough, and then she'll talk to the Vesmier and... they'll find a way to get them out. They will.
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On the other hand... As afraid as he is of Thane and what he might do to him if he goes back on their bargain, if he's just going to get put away anyway, then what's keeping him from talking? God, he wants to see that bastard suffer for leaving him shattered like this, and even if it destroys his pathetic attempts to slander his own name in the face of Torchwood, something he knows might destroy him... Not that he knows much.
Then again, it's Tyler. Tyler with his righteous copper morality. Even if he cooperates, there's very little he can say at this point that won't convince him that he's not scum, and he can easily push his luck with Tyler, convince him that it's the best thing for all of them that he be left to rot somewhere ( ... )
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"I'm fine. I don't want to keep you from your job or anything..."
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"Okay." He pauses awkwardly, grabs her hand briefly and squeezes it and then moves back to Sam and Sark, giving Sark a look that he hasn't given him since the first time he arrived in this world and realized he was sharing a hotel with him, before heading towards the room he was indicating a moment before. "Right. Room's just right down here."
At this point, Sark's just following along, willing this situation to just end already.
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The thing is, it's not doing anything - moving to interpose itself, trying to alert someone of a situation or danger, anything. Just standing there. Staring.
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"Did you need something?" she sighs, though now that she thinks of it... she's not sure she has time to wait for a response.
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{Custom message activate: this unit has been programmed with event-specific information garnered during a preliminary proxy pass through this timeline. This message concerns … … … status: subject: 'April'. Threat of catastrophic paradox seeded by message play: .027%. Threat level below threshold. Play message Yes/No?}
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{April was taken by a 'green rift' during her staged execution. This unit has no additional data.}
There's another pause, punctuated by the odd clicking - a sort of audible ellipsing, of course.
{… … … this unit has preprogrammed priorities including: 1) to ensure the health and safety of Torchwood personnel,} it... offers.
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"She wasn't killed?"
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{The objective of template load[Instagur John Thane Agency Designation 462O1] was to extract revenge on template load[Julian Sark] for antipersonell mission while retaining April as an … … … asset; to this end an execution was simulated; during the course of this simulation a small Rift opening opened and transported April to an unknown location. This unit has preprogrammed priorities incl- - -readout cancelled. This unit has no data on April's current whereabouts.}
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