And I hope that you are having the time of your life, but think twice - that's my only advice -
There's a gold flash in one of the hallways of the Kashtta Tower and out stumbles a certain Time Agent, deeply broken and more than a little insane, with a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. Why he came here isn't terribly clear, not even to him - just that it's where Torchwood is, and Torchwood is in this up to their eyebrows. Find them and
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And he still hasn't ruled out a tracker.
But he's walking down the hall today having a nice conversation about chess with some blonde British woman. Yes, it's a one-sided conversation with nothing as far as the rest of the world is concerned, but Will doesn't particularly care at the moment.
He hasn't yet noticed the skulking Time Agent with the hunting rifle and emotional difficulties.
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And then the voice comes around, as does its owner, who seems to be engaged in a conversation with... absolutely nothing. He's taking it one step further than most people who have conversations with nothing by actually making eye contact with it and appearing to respond to physical cues. Huh. ...well, if it works for him.
"I always did think there was something a bit ironic about the endgame," he says, hopping into the conversation without advance notice. "You hit some arbitrary stage and all your pawns, these things you've been throwing away since the beginning - suddenly they're the most important piece on the board except for your fucking King. Hi."
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Florence takes the opportunity to leave, very glad that guns don't have any effect on her anymore.
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He shrugs, slinging the rifle back over his shoulder and exhaling. The guy looks scared, but not scared enough to know who he is. Not angry enough, either. So, that's... ... ...what it is.
"You're not Torchwood, are you?" he asks, then looks around the hall. "Torchwood jumped ship. Went to ground. Ducked and covered. You'd think they were concerned about the safety of their personnel and security of their offices or something."
It's a bit frightening how exactly deadpan that comes out.
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He considers that this guy might have something to do with all the upset in Torchwood and that makes him both nervous and curious. "I'm Will, by the way. Will Tippin."
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"...Jim," he says, after a moment. "Jim Tainus." It's a ridiculously overt sub-alias, but if you look between your feet - a bit harder, off to your right just a smidge, yeah, that - that's the upper level of Thane's ability to care right now.
He looks around. Hall still empty. No magically-appearing Sato or Cooper or Tyler or, well, anyone except this kid. Not that he's sure whether ornot he should want there to be.
"I need a drink," he announces. "They haven't installed a bar here, have they? You want a drink?" He stuffs his hands into his pockets. "We can commiserate on how Chicago is a bitch with the same sense of timing as a chula hit squad. Fuckers. And where the hell do they get off leaving civilians around here?" He extends his hand. "Come here."
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On the other hand, this could be an amazing quasi-interview opportunity, and getting out of the damn building before he goes absolutely insane sounds like a good plan.
"I'm not opposed to it," he says cautiously. "I've been going a little stir-crazy Though my friend has a way of noticing when I try to leave the building..."
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And then he notices 'Jim' rifling through the cupboard. He's not close enough to see exactly what he's pulling out. "Stocking up for winter?" he asks dryly, then shakes his head. "Uh... there's a place about a mile away, El Perro Fumando? They sell these huge blue margaritas. I don't know exactly where it is, though."
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He exhales.
"Right. My mistake I didn't think to download a phone book off the official Agency servers. Not that there's an Agency that gives a damn around here. Can you tell me which direction it's got a mile to, or are we just going to play Drinking Establishment Roulette? I've got ten or twelve places programmed in here."
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A few of the patrons startle when they appear, and most of the rest do when Thane takes a deep breath and snaps, "All right, kids, clear out! A bit of privacy, here!"
No one... actually moves. Thane groans, slipping the rifle off his back and hefting her.
"I don't suppose the fact that I'm a heavily-armed crazy person bothers you at all? No? Do you people watch the news ( ... )
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He smiles a little, awkwardly, when the kid hands him his drink. "So, uh... life's been crap lately, I take it?"
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Will's question gets a bit more of a response. Thane snorts, drawing idly in a puddle of something on the counter. "Crap's one way to put it." In that his mind's been ransacked and his allies have all either turned on him or fallen through holes in the fabric of reality and the glorious not-actually-a-plan he's been working on assumption of for the past sever perceived years just fell apart and he's been crushed into a fine smear by a giant armadillo and... yeah, "crap" is definitely one way to put it.
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"My planet got erased from existence," he says, and drinks. "Right out. Boom. I wasn't on it when it happened, and I fell under the Agency's dampers when it happened so it didn't cascade and blink me out, too, but, you know, still sucks a bit, especially when all your family is there and you were kinda hoping for political amnesty and it was the only place around that might give ten seconds of consideration to it. But, hey, who cares, there's a war on, you get me? A few casualties here and there happen."
He swishes the drink, glaring like it's personally offend him.
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