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Jack's room is mostly basic, it has to be said.

In fairness, he hasn't had much chance to make it his own - it has only been (ahem) somewhere private to go that is not the TARDIS for when he visits Milliways.

And since he is not Bound, for most of the time it stays empty, storing just some clean clothes and basic necessities (well - basic if you're Jack) and not much else.


There is this to be said for it, too:

The door may be locked, but it is not booby-trapped.

Lucky for some.
 
 
 
27 July 2009 @ 12:36 am
Jack is not scholarly-minded by nature, but sometimes a little theoretical work is unavoidable, especially for those who use a great deal of cyphers and code and have nasty, suspicious and above all twisty minds (like Jack). His notebook is slowly being filled with number combinations, together with bits and pieces of Thirbite algebra.

(So much easier than the earth variety, provided you have the necessary languages to translate back when you're done.)

Since, however, there's only so much dry data you can take when you are by nature a social creature, he's doing this at a table in the middle of the bar, with the vague hope that someone will interrupt.

He can't be rude enough to ignore anyone, and then he'll have a legitimate excuse to wrap things up for the day.
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26 July 2009 @ 11:08 pm
FYI, Security types:

A man called Sam Winchester has apparently been possessed by a demon, and has been seen in the bar. It - for lack of a more specific pronoun - attacked Ianto Jones, and may intend to harm others. The only description I have is that he is very tall, with messy dark hair. Ringing any bells with anyone? I've been out of the Bar two years, by local reckoning, so I probably missed a lot.

-Captain Jack Harkness
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26 July 2009 @ 04:02 pm
Jack has spent the last couple of weeks in a strange balance between relaxing and becoming increasingly stressed. The Doctor is conspicuously absent, and it seems almost certain that if he wants to get back to his home universe - Cardiff or otherwise - he needs to go out to the same place he came in from.

That wasn't fun last time.

So instead of going over options in his head again, he's sitting in his new room drafting a hugely belated resignation letter to Lilly - she's another one he can't find.
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29 November 2008 @ 08:36 pm
Jack is working.

Well, for a given value of 'working,' anyway. He's sitting on the couch and filling in forms in his own inimitable style.

Cause of incident: Morons.
Resolution: Shouted a lot, shot alien spawn before it melded with any civilians.


He sucks the end of his pen thoughtfully, then carefully adds the words 'complete and total' at the relevant place.

It's just as well to be thorough.
 
 
10 August 2008 @ 11:51 pm
It is raining outside the base, in the deceptive manner of English Spring that means what might look like a light shower has left Jack decidedly wet as he swings into the Hub, alarms blaring behind him. It's late in the evening, but his latest Weevil chase had gone on for longer than he had thought it would.

They're getting cunning. He's perversely pleased.

He throws his coat across the couch as he passes, scrubbing a hand through his wet hair and heading for his office. He has no real reason to expect anyone else to be here this late.
 
 
11 July 2008 @ 11:22 pm
[OOC: The morning after this.]

Jack is wearing a different shirt the next morning, so presumably he changed at some point - but there is no other evidence that he had slept or stopped reading through files at all. But he's in his office as the sun comes up, sitting back in his chair and making scathing notes all over one of Owen's medical writeups. He might feel bad about that at some other time.

Apart from the soft hum of the computers, the rest of the hub is quiet, most of the lights still off.
 
 
14 June 2008 @ 08:33 pm
Jack is thinking about torture.

The team had mostly been silent on the way back, in varying degrees of shock or exhaustion, and Jack himself still in the eerie spaced-out calm that had followed the blinding, murderous rage that had driven him almost to the edge of a place he thought he was done with. Further, he thinks grimly, eyes steady on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel just a little too tight and for once driving strictly within the traffic laws.

A long time ago, he was pretty good at torture.

He still is, today proved that. But now that's not something good, even when it helps them. Just another day in the life of Jack Harkness, monster for humanity. Funny how that turned out.

He drops off Gwen, Owen and Tosh at their respective flats, Gwen to Rhys' unknowing presence, Tosh and Owen alone, but he brings Ianto back with him to the hub almost without thinking about it. The paramedics had gone over him at the village - nothing broken, but savagely beaten, and fairly badly concussed - and who else does he have to sit up with him? It's not as if Jack will sleep tonight in any case.

They park outside the office, and Jack goes around to open the door.

"Come on," he says, offering a hand.
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21 April 2008 @ 11:04 pm
This is going to be difficult.

Jack steeples his fingers for a moment, elbows on his desk, and rests his forehead against them. His fingers feel cold. He'd wondered whether it was wise or not to hold this particular chat in his office, but... it's mostly private, especially with the rest of Torchwood at home for the evening, and if it's a little coldly professional, well- it is, mostly, a professional matter.

It should be entirely professional. Maybe talking to Ianto Jones in his office will help him remember that. He'd sent the boy home in a cab, after Lisa was dead, and more or less ordered him to sleep for no less than ten hours, then stay at home, and not come back until this meeting. Which Jack is now kicking himself for, because preofessionalism or not, this is still in the hub, and that can't be helpful. He wants to be logical before going into the emotional side.

Myfanwy screeches somewhere high above, and Jack sighs to himself. He can only hope that he can be of some help, today. This isn't just a disciplinary talk. This has to tell him more about Ianto than rereading his file will give.

He just hopes he won't get shot again. That's always so hard to explain.