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m_findlowTitle: Distracted
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack, OCs
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 300 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 462 - Where was I? at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
drabble_zone
drabble_zoneSummary: Jack has more pressing things on his mind than statistics. A triple drabble.
Jack had run a few hundred briefings in his tenure at Torchwood. He didn’t need to prepare for them, or print off handouts or set up a fancy powerpoint slide deck. He did it by instinct, knowing exactly what he wanted to convey and how to deliver it as succinctly as possible.
Not today though. Today he was fumbling over his words and losing his train of thought as he waited for Ianto to return from his medical. He cleared his throat loudly and looked down at the scribbled words on his notepad. ‘We’ve seen the largest reduction in the unemployment rate of settled aliens under the…’
The cogwheel door lights flashed and it clunked open, admitting Ianto through its curved aperture. He waddled somewhat – which was to be expected for a man carrying triplets in his seventh month – but he stopped and looked up at the glass walled boardroom and spotted Jack staring down at him, giving him a thumbs up.
‘Under the Home World Productivity Charter,’ Jack carried on. ‘In fact, the rates have dropped to less than three point seven percent in…’ Ianto was fine, that was good. A relief. But wait, what was that in his hand? ‘In the last…’ That was a paper bag, and not the kind that carried croissants. It was the kind that Boots used to sell prescription medications. Was something wrong? Had the doctors found a complication?
‘Jack?’ A voice next to him brought his attention back.
‘Sorry, where was I?’
‘Nobody can remember,’ came the reply. ‘You’ve been off with the fairies for about a minute and a half. Should we reschedule this?’
Ianto walked in and slowly lowered himself into a chair. ‘Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?’
‘Nothing. Captain Worry Warts hasn’t strung a sentence together yet.’
Jack had run a few hundred briefings in his tenure at Torchwood. He didn’t need to prepare for them, or print off handouts or set up a fancy powerpoint slide deck. He did it by instinct, knowing exactly what he wanted to convey and how to deliver it as succinctly as possible.
Not today though. Today he was fumbling over his words and losing his train of thought as he waited for Ianto to return from his medical. He cleared his throat loudly and looked down at the scribbled words on his notepad. ‘We’ve seen the largest reduction in the unemployment rate of settled aliens under the…’
The cogwheel door lights flashed and it clunked open, admitting Ianto through its curved aperture. He waddled somewhat – which was to be expected for a man carrying triplets in his seventh month – but he stopped and looked up at the glass walled boardroom and spotted Jack staring down at him, giving him a thumbs up.
‘Under the Home World Productivity Charter,’ Jack carried on. ‘In fact, the rates have dropped to less than three point seven percent in…’ Ianto was fine, that was good. A relief. But wait, what was that in his hand? ‘In the last…’ That was a paper bag, and not the kind that carried croissants. It was the kind that Boots used to sell prescription medications. Was something wrong? Had the doctors found a complication?
‘Jack?’ A voice next to him brought his attention back.
‘Sorry, where was I?’
‘Nobody can remember,’ came the reply. ‘You’ve been off with the fairies for about a minute and a half. Should we reschedule this?’
Ianto walked in and slowly lowered himself into a chair. ‘Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?’
‘Nothing. Captain Worry Warts hasn’t strung a sentence together yet.’
no subject
Date: 2025-08-16 02:56 pm (UTC)