(no subject)
This is going to be difficult.
Jack steeples his fingers for a moment, elbows on his desk, and rests his forehead against them. His fingers feel cold. He'd wondered whether it was wise or not to hold this particular chat in his office, but... it's mostly private, especially with the rest of Torchwood at home for the evening, and if it's a little coldly professional, well- it is, mostly, a professional matter.
It should be entirely professional. Maybe talking to Ianto Jones in his office will help him remember that. He'd sent the boy home in a cab, after Lisa was dead, and more or less ordered him to sleep for no less than ten hours, then stay at home, and not come back until this meeting. Which Jack is now kicking himself for, because preofessionalism or not, this is still in the hub, and that can't be helpful. He wants to be logical before going into the emotional side.
Myfanwy screeches somewhere high above, and Jack sighs to himself. He can only hope that he can be of some help, today. This isn't just a disciplinary talk. This has to tell him more about Ianto than rereading his file will give.
He just hopes he won't get shot again. That's always so hard to explain.
Jack steeples his fingers for a moment, elbows on his desk, and rests his forehead against them. His fingers feel cold. He'd wondered whether it was wise or not to hold this particular chat in his office, but... it's mostly private, especially with the rest of Torchwood at home for the evening, and if it's a little coldly professional, well- it is, mostly, a professional matter.
It should be entirely professional. Maybe talking to Ianto Jones in his office will help him remember that. He'd sent the boy home in a cab, after Lisa was dead, and more or less ordered him to sleep for no less than ten hours, then stay at home, and not come back until this meeting. Which Jack is now kicking himself for, because preofessionalism or not, this is still in the hub, and that can't be helpful. He wants to be logical before going into the emotional side.
Myfanwy screeches somewhere high above, and Jack sighs to himself. He can only hope that he can be of some help, today. This isn't just a disciplinary talk. This has to tell him more about Ianto than rereading his file will give.
He just hopes he won't get shot again. That's always so hard to explain.