sunburnt breastplates, dying laughter, bruises, rumors of fresh reserves, memories of high treason

[hey_capn_jack]

{{Wobbledy-dated? IT HAPPENED SOMETIME.}}

J is not terribly happy as he's escorted to the Kashtta Tower, and most of his attention is focused on keeping his hackles down. Despite the fact that he threw himself to the mercy of the archangels of his own volition, being here - rehabilitative custody, as if it's not a joke in implication - everything

Comments

[thrillofthekill]

Vincent scratches at his nose, looking like someone who hasn't gotten much sleep in awhile. Mitsuki left a few days ago, after making sure he had everything sorted out, but, really, he just sent her home because he knows how much she hates this damn city and he doesn't need her mothering him.

Technically, he could have just sent two of his kids and been done with it and not show up here, but he has to have a few words with Tyler and Cooper about this, because there are so many ways in which he is not okay with shoving the rehabilitated war criminal off on the hands of his last victims, whether he plans on making nice or not.

For all that he's the leader, he's been trailing behind, so he's the last person into the lobby. He hangs back near the receptionist's desk, leaning on it casually and giving the impression that he's watching the scene unfolding like a hawk, and lets the business part get taken care of before he has to pull everyone aside for a nice little chat.

[torchwoodsheart]

Gwen's not waiting in the lobby - she took Tosh's place in the control room a while ago, keeping an eye on the CCTV and all. It's the least she could do right now, when she doesn't have a bloody clue how to do more

[weareshadows]

"Unless you'd like him shipped to the stockades in Curaçao," she offers. "I could escort him."

This is delivered with a sidelong look at Vincent, though she stops her tone from being sharp enough to signal insubordination. Anyway, she was the one who didn't want to join the South American front. Now she gets to deal with it.

[torchwoodsheart]

Gwen almost smiles, and reaches for the pen. "No, that's fine. I wouldn't want to make that much extra work for you..."

She signs her name, and, as she hands the clipboard back, can't help glancing up, past the woman to Jack. The prisoner. Whatever name he's going by now, and she's going to have to make him tell her soon, because this mental tapdancing to find the right thing to call him is getting exhausting in and of itself.

[ornobodywill]

Unfortunately for everyone, the first person that walks into the lobby after Gwen and Vincent leave is not Sam. In fact, it's Sam's guardian angel's surly older sister. Mac's headed out and it's probably not a good idea to question where, but there's a very lumpy duffel bag involved. She has it swung over her shoulder as she marches down the stairs, not paying any attention to the man and the archangel until she gets to the bottom step.

She arches an eyebrow, not quite meeting J's eyes. "Aren't you a little old to get escorted back by the police?" Mac will put two and two together and get four in a minute- when she heard that the guy who fucked over half of Torchwood and, more importantly, her sister was sent into protective custody, she assumed he was going to Singsing, not twelve blocks down.

[hey_capn_jack]

There are people J recognizes, in the Tower - that'd probably be the majority of them. And there are people he really doesn't recognize from any stay here, and Mac happens to fall into that category. That gets her a somewhat searching look, as he tries to read who she might be, how she might react to him, and how he should react to her.

At the moment, everything is still stuck on neutrality. He's in an information-acquisition phase, taking no action until he's sure of his footing, and if she does recognize him on his archangel escort, that'll probably change any dynamic they hit.

"I'd hope the young don't get this kind of escort."

[ornobodywill]

Mac shrugs casually, tossing her head a bit. "Well, you never know in this city. I met this teenage girl who could use her blood as a-"

She meets his eyes and there's a jolt that feels like something with hooves just gave her a good kick to the solar plexus. There's an overwhelming surge of need to get closer, need to protect, need to get him away from the archangel in case he gets hurt.

Holy shit.

They tell you it hurts like fuck when you meet your ward. She didn't imagine it would hurt like getting smacked in the face with a freight train.

She staggers backwards, despite the overwhelming urge to get closer and rubs at her head, grimacing, and making groaning pain noises.

"Holy shit," she verbalizes the two words that have been running through her head for what is probably less than a minute but feels like much longer.

[hey_capn_jack]

...and that's enough to get a reaction out of J, because this woman's reaction is so far beyond the pale he's not sure how to interpret it. She looks like Sam did when he met him, inadvertently smacking him with the biggest lie in his arsenal, and he can't for the life of him tell what triggered that.

Fortunately, that's not an issue for long.