Ianto Jones had to be honest. Some days, life at Torchwood was a little dull. The boss was away on a very abrupt kind of personal leave and there was a suspicious lack of anything to do from further up the command structure. Tosh and Owen had both decided not to show up for work; at least not in the morning. He didn't blame them really. Monday could be a difficult day for anyone. If your job involved spreadsheets and colored sticky notes, it would be hard enough to get out of bed. But if your job involved rounding up alien scum, decoding strange energy waves, listening to bizarre directives from the lunatic bureaucrats in London, and generally looking into the mouth of madness, the blankets might stay tucked around you a little tighter when the alarm clock rang in the morning.
Ianto's feet were on Jack's desk when the main door opened. Gwen sat nearby combining analysis of signal traffic with the aspects of a high tea. While Jack was away, Ianto felt that he had to show that he was in charge. Sitting at the desk looking nonchalant was just part of appearing to be in charge. Gwen did her best to be supportive; Jack was her mentor and best big brother after all. There was a generous click and a concerted hiss as all the servos engaged to open the main blast door. Ianto frowned lightly, not sure why Owen or Tosh had even bothered to turn up. Gwen seemed completely oblivious and continued noisily to punish the fruit in her salad. Strangely, there was no auto-recognition of his colleagues on the security screen as the door rolled open. His professional instincts piqued, Owen's hand reached noiselessly to the revolver on the breakfast bar, his gaze fixed on the doorway. Gwen stopped chewing as she saw the motion of Owen's hand. She turned quietly, not sure what she would see.
Ianto froze at attention, alarmed when he realized that it was definitely not one of his Hub friends who had walked in. "What the..?" blurted out Ianto, which was never normally something he said. He sat up in the chair, gripping the edge of the desk. A large man – human anyway – stood quietly in the doorway in plain sight, concealed only by heavy shadow. The brief possibility that this was Jack returning in a bad-taste prank, was quashed by the size of the figure.
"Can I help you?" piped up Ianto with over-casual politeness. Was this some innocent sewer worker stumbling into the wrong drain? He really had to do something about the light shining in from behind the entrance. The security screen had now resolved the intruder into a stylized black silhouette. But nothing more. Where the presumed identity or – at the very least – species should have been filled in, there was a single bold question mark. Ianto's eyes flicked from the screen to the intruder and back. The question mark began to rotate onscreen as the processor attempted to identify the intruder.
Gwen held her breath, eyes wide, wondering how their security had been breached so easily. She pondered how useful her cutlery would be if the introductions turned nasty. The shady figured then stepped into the light, slowly sizing up the transfixed duo. Ianto raised the revolver slowly, but not threateningly.
"Don't be ridiculous Mr. Jones. Save your bullets for your fellow team members, " the man mouthed scathingly. "That's how you do it down here, isn't it?" he hissed with a sneer. His gaze flitted over the desk, taking in the disarray and none of the detail. Then he widened his assessment to the whole office and the Hub by implication.
"What a mess," he concluded with some disgust. Clearly, the expression of his own views was more important than a feeble attempt at conversation.
Ianto lowered the revolver just as the security screen crunched the vocal input and reached its conclusion. "Bruce?" hissed Ianto at the same moment as the screen flashed up the Torchwood Two designation. Ianto did a double-take as he saw that the internal security system had, as he had done, added a question mark at the end of Bruce's name.
Ianto turned back to his nominal colleague, a slight frown on his face. He held the revolver steady, but still pointed at the floor.
"You know Jack said you weren't welcome," he pointed out. "Why have you come, Bruce? And how did you get in here?"
"I walked in," remarked the broad stranger without explanation. "This must be Constable Cooper," he indicated with neither charm nor actual interest in her identity. He cast his eyes randomly around the organized chaos of The Hub, spotting Jack's office with obvious interest.
Gwen felt this familiarity lacked a little respect. She turned away from the charmless intruder. "Okay, Ianto. I'll take the bait. Who is this? And why is he wandering around like he owns the place?"
Bruce quarter-turned to call back over his shoulder. "For now, Officer, I do."
Ianto shrugged, bemused. "I'm not sure how the hierarchy works outside of our office. I'm not really even sure that we have a hierarchy. Other than who is left alive at the end of the day, I mean."
Gwen leaned forward and spoke quietly to Ianto. "If he's not welcome, then why don't we just zap him? Or set the guard dog on him?"
Ianto thought briefly. "I suspect Bruce has been zapped enough times that he wouldn't remember who he was originally anyway."
Bruce was then standing behind them, closer than they might have reasonably believed.
"Excellent, Mr. Jones. You will have a promising career in what now passes for comedy if your day job ever falls thru."
Ianto's ears began to blush, part embarrassment, part anger.
"Can we gather the rest of the team together, Mr. Jones?" Bruce was polite. "Assuming any of them are left alive. And always assuming you can persuade them to call in on a weekday?"