2.19 - Text

[breakingmyheart]

[Filtered from Inmates and Wardens]

[...so, the Fourth Walling crowd can see this, but nobody else.]

Personal identifier: 0072256013.

[She pauses. It's really just wishful thinking to imagine anyone else learnt their own ID code, never mind anyone else's.]

Toshiko Sato.

Seeking contact with Torchwood 3, circa 2008.

Comments

[gets_inside_you]

Are you mucking about in time, Tosh? Or is it the Rift acting up?

[breakingmyheart]

Neither.

Hello, Suzie. It's been a while.

[weevilking]

Personal identifier: no one cares

Tosh, if you're done running your tests I could use a hand in the morgue.

[breakingmyheart]

[oh]

I'm not there right now, Owen.

[weevilking]

What are you going on about, I just saw you no more than ten minutes ago.

[breakingmyheart]

That's another version of me. A past version.

I'm communicating with you from another point in time and space.

[weevilking]

[Hold on while Owen goes and checks something... And accidentally insults past!Tosh in the process. Remember that time he mentioned practical jokes and then got really quiet and walked away?]

Right.

You're texting me on my mobile from the future, then.

Should I get Jack?

[breakingmyheart]

Is he there?

[augh]

No. No, it's fine.

How are you, Owen?

[weevilking]

[Erm.]

Dead.

How's the future? Is Cardiff still standing?

[breakingmyheart]

As far as I know.

[Which she knows because she bought Children Of Earth and Miracle Day at port like an utter weirdo.]

I haven't been there for a while. It's complicated.

[weevilking]

[Oh Tosh.]

You're talking to a walking corpse in the middle of dissecting what seems to be an alien egg sac and you tell me it's complicated.

[breakingmyheart]

I'm on board an interdimensional, sentient prison ship for the rehabilitation of dead criminals who are granted a second chance at life on completion of their treatment.

[weevilking]

[........]

See? Simple as Weevils.

[Hold on he's having a moment.]

Bloody fucking hell, Tosh.

[breakingmyheart]

I know.

[weevilking]

[There's a long moment before he replies.] You alright?

[QUICK. JUSTIFY CONCERN.] That sounds more like Jack's dream come true.

[breakingmyheart]

[...]

I've probably savaged causality enough already just by even starting this conversation.

[Noticeably absent: a goddamn answer to the question.]

[weevilking]

[Another decent pause.] Right.

We wouldn't want the causality to get savaged, now would we?

[breakingmyheart]

[After about five minutes:]

I'm not alright, Owen.

[weevilking]

[:/]

I don't know who would be.

[...It doesn't feel right in text. So Owen decides to attempt to call the strange numbers and symbols address the messages are coming from. It should click on to voice after some static.]

[Voice]

..Hello?

Video

[breakingmyheart]

[Tosh can do you one better. She looks tired, thinner and less put-together than the one you're sharing office space with right now, and she appears to be sitting on the Torchwood Hub sofa with the tiled wall at her back.]

Hi, Owen.

Video

[weevilking]

[Well. How about that. He sets his phone down on a table and leans over it. He doesn't realize he's transmitting video on his side, but he is now.

Look at the hard jaw and the concern. His voice is dark.]

...Please don't tell me that Torchwood makes this place.

Video

[breakingmyheart]

No. The Barge just sort of...borrows places you know to make up your own room.

Text

[lesliemonster]

[Toshiko!]

Pawnee, Indiana -- 2011. A few years off, but hello! It's Leslie Knope. How are you?

Text

[breakingmyheart]

I'm fine. How are you?

['Ruined everything and got demoted' is not an acceptable definition of 'fine', Toshiko.]

[lesliemonster]

[Damn it Toshiko, your lies do not bleed through text!]

Good! Living in Indiana, saved my department through an amazing cultural event, the usual.

Is your hair still amazing? I bet it is.