i must believe there's more above us and below
Who: Ianto Jones, Owen Harper, possibly Jack later on?
What: Drinking. Yup.
Where: The Torchwood Hub
When: directly after this exchange
Warnings: drinking, talk of death, possible language.
After meeting and reuniting with Jack, he followed him to the Hub before he finally managed to pull himself from his (former?) boss' side. The City of Dreams, an apt description for such a place, with their very own Hub sitting there smack in the middle of it all, same as it had been in Cardiff. Before it had been blown to bits and taking it's inhabitant's with it. Namely, Jack.
He stopped in the entranceway, his little tourist office-slash-secret front to their oh so secret base with the brochures and nick nacks stacked as they had before he quickly made his way to the main area. It was exactly the same. Except for the noises that usually pervaded, or absence of them - the absence of Tosh and Gwen was palpable from the moment he walked in - no clattering about the computers or idle chatter, or sweep of giant wings from above.
It was slightly eerie, that. Like someone had rebuilt it, but taken out all that had made it what it was, made it their home. Hollowed it all out.
More eerie even than waking up in a strange room after being poisoned and dying, but well - that was Torchwood for you. They were the team that never died, or so it seemed. And right now getting wasted beyond belief wasn't sounding so bad, to be quite honest. "Owen?" he called, peering over into the autopsy bay.
What: Drinking. Yup.
Where: The Torchwood Hub
When: directly after this exchange
Warnings: drinking, talk of death, possible language.
After meeting and reuniting with Jack, he followed him to the Hub before he finally managed to pull himself from his (former?) boss' side. The City of Dreams, an apt description for such a place, with their very own Hub sitting there smack in the middle of it all, same as it had been in Cardiff. Before it had been blown to bits and taking it's inhabitant's with it. Namely, Jack.
He stopped in the entranceway, his little tourist office-slash-secret front to their oh so secret base with the brochures and nick nacks stacked as they had before he quickly made his way to the main area. It was exactly the same. Except for the noises that usually pervaded, or absence of them - the absence of Tosh and Gwen was palpable from the moment he walked in - no clattering about the computers or idle chatter, or sweep of giant wings from above.
It was slightly eerie, that. Like someone had rebuilt it, but taken out all that had made it what it was, made it their home. Hollowed it all out.
More eerie even than waking up in a strange room after being poisoned and dying, but well - that was Torchwood for you. They were the team that never died, or so it seemed. And right now getting wasted beyond belief wasn't sounding so bad, to be quite honest. "Owen?" he called, peering over into the autopsy bay.