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Apr. 27th, 2008 11:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bodldopsWatched the Torchwood finale last night. WAUGH. So of course, there is fic. There were just entirely too many throwaway lines in that episode for there not to be fic.
Someone is attempting to drill his head off with a sonic pick. It's very, very annoying. Extremely annoying. But not nearly as annoying as the weevil dance troupe that has started practice for a Riverdance revival in his skull. Maybe, maybe if he bashes his head against the wall a few times, it will rattle the weevils enough that they'll go away.
Correction: It isn't a sonic pick. It is his cell phone. He was close, anyway. God, his head hurts. And he hasn't noticed it before, but his apartment is way too bright. Definitely time to invest in some window blinds or something. Black-out fabric, that would be perfect.
Augh, his phone is ringing again. He's not in, go away. But whoever is trying to call him is persistent. He finds persistence annoying, right now. Maybe if he turned off his phone, that would do the trick. Blindly he makes a grab for the offending bit of machinery.
The phone, perversely, slides off the end table and onto the floor, continuing to ring merrily (he must have been on something when he picked that ring tone) from two feet below him. He tries to grab it without moving off the couch, but something goes tragically wrong and the thump of hitting the floor goes right to his head and he'd swear he cracked it open.
Last night he went out, he remembers. He doesn't remember coming back home. He hopes, in the way he can hope for anything other than for his head to stop pounding, that he didn't bring anyone with him when he came home. The morning after is hell, especially if the girl won't get the hint that he's really not interested in anything further. So awkward.
For the love of little pickled brains, why won't that person stop calling him? He assumes it's a person. It could be an alien. It would be just like an alien to kick him while he's down. He doesn't want to know how they got his phone number though. Maybe one of the weevils in lockup is a spy. A James Bond of weevils. Ugh. Irritated, he makes another grab for the phone, and finds it much easier now that he is on the floor as well. Triumphantly he stabs at the button to turn it off.
Except that wasn't the button to turn it off. That was the speakerphone button. He only just has time to realize this before the call connects.
"Owen? Thank goodness, Owen, you need to hurry..." Oh God, it's Toshiko. Sweet girl, a little too mousy for his tastes, and definitely too persistent. He'll have to mention that some time.
"Tosh." He croaks. Weird. He didn't mean to croak. "Why...?"
"Suzi was found unconscious one one of the lower levels, and you need to come down here." Tosh explains hurriedly over his creaking complaints.
"Jack..."
"The rest of the team is out on different calls, the rift is very busy today." Owen groans irritably and tries to stand, sitting back down abruptly when the world spins at a drunken angle. Tosh's distracted voice suddenly becomes sharp. Wincing, he holds the phone a little further away from his ear.
"Owen, what's wrong, should I send..."
"Tosh, stop." He sighs. This is not going to go over well, he can tell already. But there's no way he's fit to practice medicine right now. Thankfully, blessed silence comes over the phone line. He really isn't up for a shouting match.
He really isn't up for much beyond trying to sleep off this hangover.
"Tosh..." He sighs - he's never going to live this one down, "I'm hung over. In fact, I'm probably still a little drunk from last night. You do not want me holding a scalpel or anything else today, never mind driving my way down there."
More silence from over the line. Wincing again, he pinches the bridge of his nose, drawing his knees up to his chest for extra stability. He can practically see the disapproving scowl.
"Tosh..."
"Tell me what to do."
The phone gets blinked at in utter uncomprhension.
"What?" Toshiko sounds entirely too calm as she repeats her order.
"Tell me what to do, Owen. I'm here all by myself anyway, I might as well do something useful. I can at least hook up monitoring equipment or something."
There is more blinking from Owen's end, but he has to admit it isn't a horrible idea. She might be mousy and everything else, but she's a bonified wizard at machines. Half of medicine nowadays is by machine anyway, especially at Torchwood with all of their advanced alien gizmos and such.
"Alright, alright." He makes another attempt to get back on the couch, and manages to sprawl over the comfortable cushions. "Here's what you do first..."
Pizza night in the Hub again, everyone relaxing after a long week of aliens being their usual annoying alien selves.
"By the way, Owen, good work figuring out how the Rotelfrans were subduing their victims." Jack praises around a mouthful of Hawaiian pizza (extra pineapple). Owen looks up, startled, but Jack is busy trying to keep all of the toppings on his pizza and not on his lap. He glances sideways at Toshiko (pesto and chicken) who is looking back at him, shrugging slightly.
"Yeah. Any time." Grinning suddenly back at Tosh, he picks up his beer and, before drinking, toasts her subtly. They make a good team, actually.
So, now that the dentistry final from hell is over (YAY), I need to make some headway on the emergency med test so I don't have as much to do tomorrow, because we have surgery. And I really hope Trapper doesn't call me tonight looking for someone to help her with the PE, because honestly. Three months is plenty of warning.
Also, my plants are still looking good. It's awesome.
Also, there's an article in this week's TIME - excerpts from the diary of Rutka Laskier, 'Polands Anne Frank'. I was excited when I saw it, because I tend to be a bit of a history geek, but whoever translated it... it just sounds so modern, it's off-putting. Like it's someone's homework - write what you think you would write if you were in the Holocaust. The language is just so very wrong for a fourteen year-old-girl in 1942. *frowns* Anyway. Might get the book out of the library anyway, for a look at the events.
Someone is attempting to drill his head off with a sonic pick. It's very, very annoying. Extremely annoying. But not nearly as annoying as the weevil dance troupe that has started practice for a Riverdance revival in his skull. Maybe, maybe if he bashes his head against the wall a few times, it will rattle the weevils enough that they'll go away.
Correction: It isn't a sonic pick. It is his cell phone. He was close, anyway. God, his head hurts. And he hasn't noticed it before, but his apartment is way too bright. Definitely time to invest in some window blinds or something. Black-out fabric, that would be perfect.
Augh, his phone is ringing again. He's not in, go away. But whoever is trying to call him is persistent. He finds persistence annoying, right now. Maybe if he turned off his phone, that would do the trick. Blindly he makes a grab for the offending bit of machinery.
The phone, perversely, slides off the end table and onto the floor, continuing to ring merrily (he must have been on something when he picked that ring tone) from two feet below him. He tries to grab it without moving off the couch, but something goes tragically wrong and the thump of hitting the floor goes right to his head and he'd swear he cracked it open.
Last night he went out, he remembers. He doesn't remember coming back home. He hopes, in the way he can hope for anything other than for his head to stop pounding, that he didn't bring anyone with him when he came home. The morning after is hell, especially if the girl won't get the hint that he's really not interested in anything further. So awkward.
For the love of little pickled brains, why won't that person stop calling him? He assumes it's a person. It could be an alien. It would be just like an alien to kick him while he's down. He doesn't want to know how they got his phone number though. Maybe one of the weevils in lockup is a spy. A James Bond of weevils. Ugh. Irritated, he makes another grab for the phone, and finds it much easier now that he is on the floor as well. Triumphantly he stabs at the button to turn it off.
Except that wasn't the button to turn it off. That was the speakerphone button. He only just has time to realize this before the call connects.
"Owen? Thank goodness, Owen, you need to hurry..." Oh God, it's Toshiko. Sweet girl, a little too mousy for his tastes, and definitely too persistent. He'll have to mention that some time.
"Tosh." He croaks. Weird. He didn't mean to croak. "Why...?"
"Suzi was found unconscious one one of the lower levels, and you need to come down here." Tosh explains hurriedly over his creaking complaints.
"Jack..."
"The rest of the team is out on different calls, the rift is very busy today." Owen groans irritably and tries to stand, sitting back down abruptly when the world spins at a drunken angle. Tosh's distracted voice suddenly becomes sharp. Wincing, he holds the phone a little further away from his ear.
"Owen, what's wrong, should I send..."
"Tosh, stop." He sighs. This is not going to go over well, he can tell already. But there's no way he's fit to practice medicine right now. Thankfully, blessed silence comes over the phone line. He really isn't up for a shouting match.
He really isn't up for much beyond trying to sleep off this hangover.
"Tosh..." He sighs - he's never going to live this one down, "I'm hung over. In fact, I'm probably still a little drunk from last night. You do not want me holding a scalpel or anything else today, never mind driving my way down there."
More silence from over the line. Wincing again, he pinches the bridge of his nose, drawing his knees up to his chest for extra stability. He can practically see the disapproving scowl.
"Tosh..."
"Tell me what to do."
The phone gets blinked at in utter uncomprhension.
"What?" Toshiko sounds entirely too calm as she repeats her order.
"Tell me what to do, Owen. I'm here all by myself anyway, I might as well do something useful. I can at least hook up monitoring equipment or something."
There is more blinking from Owen's end, but he has to admit it isn't a horrible idea. She might be mousy and everything else, but she's a bonified wizard at machines. Half of medicine nowadays is by machine anyway, especially at Torchwood with all of their advanced alien gizmos and such.
"Alright, alright." He makes another attempt to get back on the couch, and manages to sprawl over the comfortable cushions. "Here's what you do first..."
Pizza night in the Hub again, everyone relaxing after a long week of aliens being their usual annoying alien selves.
"By the way, Owen, good work figuring out how the Rotelfrans were subduing their victims." Jack praises around a mouthful of Hawaiian pizza (extra pineapple). Owen looks up, startled, but Jack is busy trying to keep all of the toppings on his pizza and not on his lap. He glances sideways at Toshiko (pesto and chicken) who is looking back at him, shrugging slightly.
"Yeah. Any time." Grinning suddenly back at Tosh, he picks up his beer and, before drinking, toasts her subtly. They make a good team, actually.
So, now that the dentistry final from hell is over (YAY), I need to make some headway on the emergency med test so I don't have as much to do tomorrow, because we have surgery. And I really hope Trapper doesn't call me tonight looking for someone to help her with the PE, because honestly. Three months is plenty of warning.
Also, my plants are still looking good. It's awesome.
Also, there's an article in this week's TIME - excerpts from the diary of Rutka Laskier, 'Polands Anne Frank'. I was excited when I saw it, because I tend to be a bit of a history geek, but whoever translated it... it just sounds so modern, it's off-putting. Like it's someone's homework - write what you think you would write if you were in the Holocaust. The language is just so very wrong for a fourteen year-old-girl in 1942. *frowns* Anyway. Might get the book out of the library anyway, for a look at the events.
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Date: 2008-04-27 08:46 pm (UTC)(I am annoyed about Owen mostly because - what was the point of bringing him back, if they weren't going to do anything interesting with it? I wanted him to be Cyberpersoned or something!)