Jack leaned slightly to the side to fully appreciate the woman sitting a few seats down the bar without being obstructed by the man next to him. She was drinking alone, dressed in black pants so tight they could be leggings and a casual grey t-shirt that hung loosely over her frame, although not loosely enough that Jack couldn't guess what was underneath. She contemplated her drink, not looking at anyone else in the dimly lit bar.
"Don't bother," a gruff voice muttered. Jack didn't even turn to his right. He knew where the voice came from, a man that had sat next to him not long before, his face shaded by a baseball cap pulled low. By his count, they were the only two men in the place with an American accent.
"Why's that? You don't think she's into men like me?" Jack replied, still looking at the woman.
The man with the cap shrugged dramatically enough to catch Jack's attention. "I don't think she likes men. You might have better luck looking… elsewhere."
Quickly, the woman lost Jack's focus. He turned to his right. "Are you flirting with me?" He laughed, giving the man a quick once-over. The man wore jeans that fit him well and a hooded sweatshirt that showed off just a hint of the muscle that lay underneath. His face was still hidden, but Jack thought he caught a flash of teeth before the man took a confident sip of his cocktail, a bright pink one. Jack smiled and took a drink of his whiskey.
"That depends," the man said, "Am I second best to that tight piece of ass over there?" He gestured towards the woman.
"Well, now, that depends. Is that what I would be to you?" Jack countered.
The man lifted his head up slightly, enough to reveal a jaw, lips, and teeth as he laughed. His skin was rippled with pockets and scars, evidence of some sort of incident. Beyond the skin, though, was a well-shaped jaw. Jack's eyes hungrily fished for more information of the face, but came up with nothing above the top lip.
"Handsome guy like you? You're only second best to the real looker in this dump," the stranger said, downing the remainder of his drink and tossing some money on the counter. He slipped off the stool. "I mean me, in case you were wondering."
Jack watched him saunter away. He straightened up, intending to follow, then slouched back down. Something didn't sit right. Most men didn't initiate anything with Jack, rather Jack had to pull out his own charm to get them comfortable. Sure, the rest of humanity was beginning to catch up with Jack's views on sexuality, although they were still barely scraping the surface, but few, if any, were comfortable enough to hit on the impossible future man.
"Cheapskate," the bartender muttered, counting the money left on the counter, "Didn't even tip."
"Maybe he didn't like his drink," Jack suggested.
The burly man behind the counter probably could have been a bouncer, if the place required one. He scratched his short cocoa beard as he scoffed. "Next time I'll poison it, see how he likes that."
Jack chuckled and finished his whiskey. He made sure to tip well. Death by poison did not interest him, wasn't his favorite way to die by any means.
"Good morning, Owen!" Jack shouted joyfully to the constantly sullen doctor.
"Hmph," Owen replied, muttering, "Someone found a friend last night."
Gwen perked up from her seat in front of her computer. She pretended to keep typing her report about their latest missing person case. As it turned out, the victim angered a pack of weevils and was found in the nest. Jack, of course, had to rescue the unfortunate woman by himself, earning more than one frustrated comment about his inflated ego.
Jack smirked before taking a deep breath. "Well, Owen, since you asked, I met not one, but two friends at the bar last night. Boy, you would not believe how much those man –"
"Oi!" Owen interrupted, "No one asked! Christ, you can't say anything around here without it turning into a gay orgy."
"Not all of them are gay," Tosh corrected calmly, still intently focused on her research.
Owen waved a hand. "Too many for my liking, thank you very much."
"You're welcome," Jack replied, disappearing to check on their weevil prisoners. Janet was joined by a temporary cellmate, dubbed Jeffrey. He was recovering from a broken leg, set in a cast by Owen at Gwen's pleading for the creature. Gwen was the reason Jeffrey was allowed sanctuary in the holding cells, although the team hadn't decided what to do with him once he healed. Jack hadn't been completely convinced by Gwen's idea to set him free in Cardiff. Owen wanted to experiment on him, claiming that it would lift so much stress to have two weevils at his disposal to test on in case one of them died. Knowing Owen and his twisted mind, Jack was hesitant to let him have his way, too.
"Morning Janet," Jack said, standing in front of the glass patterned with circular holes to allow for air circulation, "Morning Jeffrey."
The two weevils warily approached the glass, swaying slowly side to side as they did so. Jack planted his feet and watched without focus, his mind wandering elsewhere. He always did his best thinking when faced with potential danger. Today, his mind kept slipping from the normal weevil complaints to the bar, and the mysterious man with a flirty mouth. Jack wondered what color his eyes were. He wondered a lot of things about the guy, but tried to focus on details above the waist.
Janet left her post at the glass window and sat down on the bench, still eyeing Jack cautiously. Jeffrey, on the other hand, let out a low growl, threatening the man in front of him. Jack noticed, but paid no attention. What did he care about a simple weevil threat?
"Jack."
At the sound of his own name, he spun around to face a man slightly shorter than him. He held out a cup of coffee that Jack knew would be exactly to his liking.
"Thank you, Ianto," Jack said with a smile.
"You're welcome, sir. I figured you might need it to deal with the visitor we have."
Jack brought the coffee cup to his lips, considering Ianto's unemotional tone, wondering what lay behind the mask of disinterest he presented. "What sort of visitor?" he asked.
The smallest peek of a smile became visible on Ianto's face. "Well, sir, he's wearing what looks to be a skin-tight spandex suit."
As Ianto had predicted, Jack's smile broadened and he nearly flew out of the room in his hurry to see the spandex-clad visitor. Ianto hung back, sharing a laugh with Janet at the expense of his boss. He liked to think he shared one with her, anyway. In truth, Janet never laughed along with him, which he found incredibly rude, but gave her the benefit of the doubt anyway. Perhaps her weevil manners were impeccable.