gangway world [closed]

[isfullofennui]

Characters: isfullofennui and guns-and-coffee

Setting/Location: Cell A

Date & Time: Day Five; several hours after waking up

Warnings: None

Summary: Kurt is subject to Ianto's scrutiny for obvious reasons. He's also pretty bored.

Comments

[guns_and_coffee]

Studying his cellmates had not been Ianto's first occupation upon waking in an alien world, but now that several hours had passed and he'd gleamed as much useful information from the network as he could, Ianto found nothing better to do. The two in the cybernetic armour he still didn't like looking at, but the cowboy was good for several minutes of fascination, and the teenagers who didn't believe in aliens were ripe for questioning

[isfullofennui]

Kurt flicked the nail file down and looked up, face flushed and expression hard. He could deal with routine dumpster diving and slushies and mindless manhandling -- he'd prefer not to, but once it was done he could dust himself off and not have to worry about how much of a trial it was being at the bottom of the social food chain until it happened again -- but staring was unreadable and he liked having that small amount of time to brace himself before being attacked. Heaven forbid his life ever be easy

[guns_and_coffee]

Sixteen. That'd be '93, '94, then. Ianto was a decade older and at least four inches taller. His voice was an octave lower. His lips weren't as wide, his nose not quite so upturned, and aside from the colour their eyes were completely different. No, it wasn't the facial elements themselves that were overwhelmingly similar, but the size of them and the space between them. That and the overall shape of the face itself. It was enough that Ianto wasn't quite ready to abandon his musings of what parallel worlds were truly capable of. Kurt was close enough to be a brother, easy, and if someone was orchestrating this whole affair, someone powerful enough to control the Rift... Well, it wasn't hard to imagine that such a person could have an interesting sense of humour.

He was being ridiculous. Probably. Maybe.

He didn't know anything.

"What are your parents like?" Ignoring Kurt's question, once again.

[isfullofennui]

He wasn't being thrown around yet, a good sign. Then again, he could also chalk that up to a new level of harassment: take him by surprise when his guard was down

[guns_and_coffee]

"My mom died when I was seven."

Ianto wasn't even looking at Kurt after that. Oh, sure, his head was turned in the right direction, and his eyes might even be vaguely focused on his face, but none of that mattered. He saw Cardiff, saw a shitty estate house with its bedrooms barely big enough to shove a bed into, saw his mam lying under a yellowing sheet, still, colourless. He saw Rhiannon screaming and crying. He saw his fingers shaking as he tried to hit the right buttons on the keypad to ring Debenhams. Wrong number, wrong number, wrong number, until the digits blurred together through his tears.

21 September 1990. A month and two days past his seventh birthday.

Such an interesting sense of humour this entity had. Delightful, really