But it made me think of Germany and the guy who sold me cigarettes
In The Kashtta Tower, Andy Mackenzie is trying not to be too consistently paranoid in her ward's direction and has decided to make herself a cup of calming tea in the kitchen. Her wings are out, held tight against her back to keep them from twitching.
Dmitri Lang has invaded the lounge, tucking herself into a corner with a worn copy of A Brief History of Time. She sent off a 112-page rough-rough draft of a thesis on Wanderer issues to the Archangel Board of the Sciences, and then invaded the Kashtta... only to find that the Kashtta is in a bit of a... state. Given that they've apparently had some absent friends returning.
And, while under normal circumstances, she'd be harrying Gwen (tact be damned) for a chance for an interview, normal circumstances got a bullet in their head in a half-finished office building some ways away from here. Now she's just hiding in the lounge.
In a chapter or two, when she's feeling calmer, she'll probably go hunt down the Jack she actually wants to talk to. But until then, it's an '88 book on cosmology for comfort reading.
Owen Harper is in his morgue, despondently checking the seal on one of the cryoshelves. So far it hasn't been compromised, but the entire morgue has fallen into disrepair, and no matter how many of those damn brillo pads he and Ianto go through on the place, it doesn't seem to get any cleaner. He really should look into replacing some of these components, especially as they may or may not be rusting away, but he's not exactly the techhead on the team. And given Tosh's issues with hardware stores and his own issues with Suzie...
...yeah. So long as the cryoshelves are maintaining their own integrity, he's just going to write up a list of complaints and hope that life reverses its lifelong trend of sucking toward being actually manageable.
And in a room carefully locked from the outside, one Jack Harkness is... sitting quietly until Torchwood figures out how to do with him.
He doesn't mind that he's essentially under house arrest here. He doesn't mind anything. He has, at the moment, literally no emotional reaction of any kind thanks to a fairly complex chip of Chula design jammed into his hindbrain. He's just... gonna sit there.
Outside, and across the street, the TARDIS, the !7th Doctor and the Vesmier are having an animated conversation in Gallifreyan (and psychic pidgin), though the Doctor keeps interjecting in English. It seems mostly to be about the Rift, a bit about London. Something about jackrabbits and covalent bonds. It's hard to tell.
At the Main Gauche, Elashte is back from his trip to Vegas and Berkeley! And looking about for that Hunt woman he took on as a governess here. There's nothing to say he's be wholly opposed to interruption, but he does look rather preoccupied.
In the basement, the Rani is packing her lab and sterilizing the facilities. Perhaps London will put her closer to the scientific edge of discovery than Chicago has. At least the Doctor there is actively working on a solution to reverse the Rift, unlike this one.
Somewhere in Cicero, Malek is celebrating being back home by invading a deep-dish pizza place. Fun atmosphere, informal bar-style seating. He probably invited Tay and Buffy to tag along with him, but it's really up to them whether they've come.
Back in Chicago, specifically at the Casa del OT3, Specimen 139 is sitting outside the gate, wagging her tail. She doesn't understand all the complexities of what's going on, but her mistress is packing up the place where they live, and she decided to go see a few friends before she could no longer be here. Des may or may not be home, but no one will be able to say she didn't make the attempt.
Though she is staying on this side of the fence, given that the other side is the territory of freakish cat-things.
In a Coffee Shop - yes, that one - Victoria Lynn is enjoying a cup of Irish Breakfast tea and keeping an eye on everyone. This place, for whatever reason, seems to be a draw for the Wanderers, and she's watching out for anyone who looks to be in need of... ministering.
This is her version of an hour off.
On Navy Pier, Leona Sandric has just strolled out of the IMax cinema. Hey, a lady from the 20's appreciates a day at the movies from time to time. She's wrapped in furs, hating the dismal cold but too self-possessed to show it, and is looking for a taxi as she walks down the street.
She's looking a bit more 20's than usual today, what with the hat, furs, and hairdo, but she carries it well.
Over at the Conrad Hotel, Onyekachi is sitting in human form on a couch in the commons room with his feet tucked up beneath him, all of him folded up under a parasol. The flourescent lights might not be that heavy or that painful, but they're certainly annoying.
Karunamayee has wheedled her way onto one of the courtesy computers, and is using it to email one of her older sisters and ask for a plane ticket back to New Delhi. Maybe she'll find herself back in Chicago some day, but for the moment... it's altogether too much. ...of course, the living grant paid by the various charitable agencies which look after Angels of Death and Guardian Angels who can't hold down another job is too small for her to afford her own ticket back, but her family is good about these things.
Of course, she can't help but keep casting odd glances at the robed man standing in the corner...
Raziel is in the hotel lobby, trying (and failing) to look inconspicuous. Ruvin mentioned this building to him once, long ago, as something of a sanctuary for those who were brought to this world against their wills. After his conversation with the Prophet, he was all the more resolved to visit this place, but until now, the constant hunt for his own sustenance has kept him busy.
Of course, then he met the Doctor, and... to be honest, his head is still somewhat spinning from that. He can feel the hunger seeping back in, as it always does, but he's more full now than he has been in some time, and with that strength comes boldness.
Dmitri Lang has invaded the lounge, tucking herself into a corner with a worn copy of A Brief History of Time. She sent off a 112-page rough-rough draft of a thesis on Wanderer issues to the Archangel Board of the Sciences, and then invaded the Kashtta... only to find that the Kashtta is in a bit of a... state. Given that they've apparently had some absent friends returning.
And, while under normal circumstances, she'd be harrying Gwen (tact be damned) for a chance for an interview, normal circumstances got a bullet in their head in a half-finished office building some ways away from here. Now she's just hiding in the lounge.
In a chapter or two, when she's feeling calmer, she'll probably go hunt down the Jack she actually wants to talk to. But until then, it's an '88 book on cosmology for comfort reading.
Owen Harper is in his morgue, despondently checking the seal on one of the cryoshelves. So far it hasn't been compromised, but the entire morgue has fallen into disrepair, and no matter how many of those damn brillo pads he and Ianto go through on the place, it doesn't seem to get any cleaner. He really should look into replacing some of these components, especially as they may or may not be rusting away, but he's not exactly the techhead on the team. And given Tosh's issues with hardware stores and his own issues with Suzie...
...yeah. So long as the cryoshelves are maintaining their own integrity, he's just going to write up a list of complaints and hope that life reverses its lifelong trend of sucking toward being actually manageable.
And in a room carefully locked from the outside, one Jack Harkness is... sitting quietly until Torchwood figures out how to do with him.
He doesn't mind that he's essentially under house arrest here. He doesn't mind anything. He has, at the moment, literally no emotional reaction of any kind thanks to a fairly complex chip of Chula design jammed into his hindbrain. He's just... gonna sit there.
Outside, and across the street, the TARDIS, the !7th Doctor and the Vesmier are having an animated conversation in Gallifreyan (and psychic pidgin), though the Doctor keeps interjecting in English. It seems mostly to be about the Rift, a bit about London. Something about jackrabbits and covalent bonds. It's hard to tell.
At the Main Gauche, Elashte is back from his trip to Vegas and Berkeley! And looking about for that Hunt woman he took on as a governess here. There's nothing to say he's be wholly opposed to interruption, but he does look rather preoccupied.
In the basement, the Rani is packing her lab and sterilizing the facilities. Perhaps London will put her closer to the scientific edge of discovery than Chicago has. At least the Doctor there is actively working on a solution to reverse the Rift, unlike this one.
Somewhere in Cicero, Malek is celebrating being back home by invading a deep-dish pizza place. Fun atmosphere, informal bar-style seating. He probably invited Tay and Buffy to tag along with him, but it's really up to them whether they've come.
Back in Chicago, specifically at the Casa del OT3, Specimen 139 is sitting outside the gate, wagging her tail. She doesn't understand all the complexities of what's going on, but her mistress is packing up the place where they live, and she decided to go see a few friends before she could no longer be here. Des may or may not be home, but no one will be able to say she didn't make the attempt.
Though she is staying on this side of the fence, given that the other side is the territory of freakish cat-things.
In a Coffee Shop - yes, that one - Victoria Lynn is enjoying a cup of Irish Breakfast tea and keeping an eye on everyone. This place, for whatever reason, seems to be a draw for the Wanderers, and she's watching out for anyone who looks to be in need of... ministering.
This is her version of an hour off.
On Navy Pier, Leona Sandric has just strolled out of the IMax cinema. Hey, a lady from the 20's appreciates a day at the movies from time to time. She's wrapped in furs, hating the dismal cold but too self-possessed to show it, and is looking for a taxi as she walks down the street.
She's looking a bit more 20's than usual today, what with the hat, furs, and hairdo, but she carries it well.
Over at the Conrad Hotel, Onyekachi is sitting in human form on a couch in the commons room with his feet tucked up beneath him, all of him folded up under a parasol. The flourescent lights might not be that heavy or that painful, but they're certainly annoying.
Karunamayee has wheedled her way onto one of the courtesy computers, and is using it to email one of her older sisters and ask for a plane ticket back to New Delhi. Maybe she'll find herself back in Chicago some day, but for the moment... it's altogether too much. ...of course, the living grant paid by the various charitable agencies which look after Angels of Death and Guardian Angels who can't hold down another job is too small for her to afford her own ticket back, but her family is good about these things.
Of course, she can't help but keep casting odd glances at the robed man standing in the corner...
Raziel is in the hotel lobby, trying (and failing) to look inconspicuous. Ruvin mentioned this building to him once, long ago, as something of a sanctuary for those who were brought to this world against their wills. After his conversation with the Prophet, he was all the more resolved to visit this place, but until now, the constant hunt for his own sustenance has kept him busy.
Of course, then he met the Doctor, and... to be honest, his head is still somewhat spinning from that. He can feel the hunger seeping back in, as it always does, but he's more full now than he has been in some time, and with that strength comes boldness.