Of dead team members, Slitheen eggs, and ridiculous foot chases...
Jack is not looking his best when he walks in. It's not anything about him physically that's really changed - though there is a bit of blood spattered on his face and coat and hands, none of it his. It's his expression, dark and closed-off, and rather pained
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But she focuses almost immediately on Jack. Because... well, Jack is obviously in more need of cuddling.
So she comes up behind Jack and touches his arm gently. "Oi, you okay?"
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He feels hollow, and cold, and... how had he not seen this coming? Seen it and prevented it... Stupid. And he should have known better.
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So she strokes his hair and kisses his shoulder and just holds him.
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And then, finally, he says, still against her shoulder. "So. Long time, no see. ...Really long time."
He tries to keep his voice light, but it breaks a little despite himself.
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Ianto had been curled around a book in the Lobby, skimming the pages idly, though not really reading it. He's honestly waiting for the door to show back up, so he can go home.
But when he glances upward to see if the door was there, his eyes catch Jack. He stands and approaches him slowly, noting the almost distant look he has.
"Sir?" He thinks about offering coffee, but decides against it for now.
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Jack doesn't notice Ianto at first, not until he speaks. He focuses on him and gives him a tight smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
He remembers enough to assume that Ianto is out of his timeline here - though he can't remember if he ever heard enough to figure out exactly when Ianto is. Doesn't really matter, now.
"Hi, Ianto." He pauses, and then adds, before Ianto can ask, "I'm fine."
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"You should probably sit down, either way." He reaches out to touch Jack's arm, to emphasize his words, but he won't do much more than that.
Ianto never asks questions because sometimes, it's easier for both of them that way.
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It's not that she died. People die. Jack's gotten used to that.
This time, it's different. This time, he can't see a way it's not his goddamn fault.
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It seems he can never get very far in real life. No matter how long he's been gone from the Inn any time he exits or enters anything he's back here. It makes him growl as he recognizes the smell of the setting before he really sees it.
He's drawn to Angua's smell of course. Follows it to the couch and sits on the arm rest, folding his arms over his chest.
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She blinks at him sleepily when she finally opens her eyes.
"How long have you been there?"
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Yes, Logan's joking.
It's probably because he's slightly lost his mind from the constant walking back into the Inn.
Seriously. Can he get ten minutes in his own world?
He shrugs. "Not long. ... why?"
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"I just wondered," she says, stretching a little without actually sitting up. "Because I was asleep. It's a valid question."
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She's been gone for three and a half months, which feel more like three and a half years. It's enough to change her. Amazingly, she's skinnier than she was the last time she was here. Her body looks more like a skeleton, but she has Asia and north Africa to blame for that. So many people in poverty already, there was nothing there, just death and starvation and pain and people struggling.
This entrance she's not scared and she's not running. No, she's walking. She's strong and determined and there might even be a little hope shining in her eyes. It's more for the benefit of the people she runs into than herself, but it looks incredibly sincere.
Martha opens the door just a little, seconds after it slams shut, and all she sees is him, "Jack?" It takes an instant to recognize the pain, the blood on his face, that something is very wrong in his expression so she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him, hard, without another thought.
More happy to see him than she is to be in the Inn.
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And almost immediately loosens his grip when he realizes how thin she is, moving back, though he keeps his hands resting on her sides. "Martha. Are you alright?" Relatively speaking.
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"I'm fine." Relatively speaking. Martha keeps her hand pressed, gently, against his chin. "You're the one with... blood on your face." And that look in his eyes that she doesn't exactly know how to put voice to.
It's not physical pain. So she knows it isn't his blood.
It's probably rather frightening that she can look into someone's eyes and tell the difference between physical and emotional pain.
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Mostly. Getting shot in the head is a remarkably clean thing for him, even with the headaches afterwards.
"I'm fine."
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Reki, drifting through the restaurant, spotted the doctor. More significantly, she spotted...whatever it was in front of him. In spite of the obviously important nature of the man's lecture (which further heightened the surreality of the scene), she couldn't help but ask.
"What is that?!"
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And he is so glad she asked.
"It's an egg!" he says cheerfully. As if that explains everything in the world.
The tentacles continue to wave, making the definition of "egg" rather questionable for anyone who's never experienced anything outside of the earth version.
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"It seems like a...very unique one," she pointed out.
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"Oh, it is." He lifts it up carefully in one hand, tilting his head to one side to study it before looking back to the girl. "It's an alien."
The Doctor is very pleased by this. Granted, even humans are aliens to him, but still.
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