This tension is... a bit harder to dispel, Ianto. Sorry about that.
Jack is controlling his expression too well. He doesn't let a reaction slip out.
"Yeah," he answers. "A big pile of rubble where the last Wanderer sanctuary was, various factions which at various times have wanted various people in the Tower dead, and being stuck in a universe a long way away from everything you used to know. There's a lot to compensate for, here."
Innuendo, meet weaponized and deployed cynicism. You'll get along well.
"Before you came here, we had two Torchwoods operating concurrently. Nine people, including that other version of yourself. And in two years, this city tore them up and spat them out in a way I've never seen Cardiff do." He gestures to... nothing, really. "Leaving Owen and a man named Daniel Faraday. Two people out of a combined two Torchwoods. Two's not really been my lucky number recently."
He settles on the edge of the desk, checking his tone and dragging it back toward dry from dark, where it had been heading.
"You're probably not from my universe, even before here. Our histories probably don't match up – haven't met anyone here whose history has. So before you decide that you're going to install yourself in the kitchen and start brewing a pot of Colombian..."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2010-06-10 04:23 am (UTC)Jack is controlling his expression too well. He doesn't let a reaction slip out.
"Yeah," he answers. "A big pile of rubble where the last Wanderer sanctuary was, various factions which at various times have wanted various people in the Tower dead, and being stuck in a universe a long way away from everything you used to know. There's a lot to compensate for, here."
Innuendo, meet weaponized and deployed cynicism. You'll get along well.
"Before you came here, we had two Torchwoods operating concurrently. Nine people, including that other version of yourself. And in two years, this city tore them up and spat them out in a way I've never seen Cardiff do." He gestures to... nothing, really. "Leaving Owen and a man named Daniel Faraday. Two people out of a combined two Torchwoods. Two's not really been my lucky number recently."
He settles on the edge of the desk, checking his tone and dragging it back toward dry from dark, where it had been heading.
"You're probably not from my universe, even before here. Our histories probably don't match up – haven't met anyone here whose history has. So before you decide that you're going to install yourself in the kitchen and start brewing a pot of Colombian..."
He lets the sentence trail off.