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= Quarantine =
Aug. 6th, 2013 08:29 pmAt first, Jack was surprised to find himself in quarantine. And then upon further consideration, he was not surprised at all. He only barely registered what the hologram was saying. Had a pretty nice body, for a hologram. His attention wandered completely as he recalled a particularly advanced 23rd century model--no touching, but plenty to look at, and very responsive. The positions that hologram had had him in! A younger Jack may have blushed remembering.
This Jack didn't.
After decades in Victorian England, Jack luxuriated in the feel of smooth synthetic sheets. He hadn't realized how much he missed zippers until he unzipped the jacket. The hooded sweatshirt and undershirt followed, pants not far behind. He wanted to really properly enjoy the sheets on the cot.
He spent some time idly wondering whether the stuff filtering through his body from the injection site would turn a few hairs grey. Maybe it would interact badly with his pheromones. He chuckled to himself, remembering all the times that 19th century London had not been prepared for Jack's 51st century body chemistry. He drifted off to sleep in the company of those memories.
In the morning, he woke, did some nude calisthenics and winked at the corner of the room mostly likely to hold a camera. When breakfast appeared, he ate it. He stretched. He settled in to wait.
Jack Harkness --poster prodigy child of the Boeshane Peninsula, disgraced Time Agent, freelancer, companion to the Doctor and Rose Tyler, rogue adrift in time-- that Jack Harkness...
He had become very good at waiting.
This Jack didn't.
After decades in Victorian England, Jack luxuriated in the feel of smooth synthetic sheets. He hadn't realized how much he missed zippers until he unzipped the jacket. The hooded sweatshirt and undershirt followed, pants not far behind. He wanted to really properly enjoy the sheets on the cot.
He spent some time idly wondering whether the stuff filtering through his body from the injection site would turn a few hairs grey. Maybe it would interact badly with his pheromones. He chuckled to himself, remembering all the times that 19th century London had not been prepared for Jack's 51st century body chemistry. He drifted off to sleep in the company of those memories.
In the morning, he woke, did some nude calisthenics and winked at the corner of the room mostly likely to hold a camera. When breakfast appeared, he ate it. He stretched. He settled in to wait.
Jack Harkness --poster prodigy child of the Boeshane Peninsula, disgraced Time Agent, freelancer, companion to the Doctor and Rose Tyler, rogue adrift in time-- that Jack Harkness...
He had become very good at waiting.
