In times like this, Owen Harper hated his job.
When he'd been working in the hospital, surrounded by bloody annoying sick people day and night, chasing aliens had sounded fantastic. They'd failed to mention Torchwood's policy of following up every tip given to them, which had resulted in their current situation, standing on top of a very cold mountain in the very alien-less Himalayas.
No one was saying anything, at least Owen didn't think they were; with the wind whipping around, it was hard to tell.
"Well," he shouted, pulling his coat more tightly around him, "I'm going back down."