✘ 50
[Torchwood's autopsy bay can be found in what Ianto usually finds to be one of the less populated areas of the Plane. Ianto himself is crouched at the foot of the stairs, scrubbing at an especially persistent blood stain. There are a few other patches trailing up the stairs, though the mop leaning against the wall indicates Ianto's already cleaned up the worst of it.
His jacket is thrown carelessly across the autopsy table along with his tie, both saturated with dust. The clothes Ianto's still wearing are in a similar state, and though he's no longer crying his cheeks are streaked with tears.
He hasn't been around the Astral Plane that much lately, but the last few days have been tough, particularly the past few hours, and he really does need the time away from the rest of his team.
He stops scrubbing for a moment, pausing to rub at his left shoulder. Only a few moments later, and the scrubbing brush is back in his hands. He can barely stand the thought of the blood being there any longer than it needs to be.]
((Canon bumped to Exit Wounds.))
His jacket is thrown carelessly across the autopsy table along with his tie, both saturated with dust. The clothes Ianto's still wearing are in a similar state, and though he's no longer crying his cheeks are streaked with tears.
He hasn't been around the Astral Plane that much lately, but the last few days have been tough, particularly the past few hours, and he really does need the time away from the rest of his team.
He stops scrubbing for a moment, pausing to rub at his left shoulder. Only a few moments later, and the scrubbing brush is back in his hands. He can barely stand the thought of the blood being there any longer than it needs to be.]
((Canon bumped to Exit Wounds.))