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m_findlowTitle: Bad business
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack, Bernie Harris
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 184 - Enterprise at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
anythingdrabble
Summary: Jack is unsurprised that Bernie's latest venture is causing problems.
Jack bit back on the groan escaping his lips as he turned the SUV into the derelict-looking street. They all looked like this in Splott. Home of the grifter and the disillusioned, he thought, slowing the car down to try and make out the numbers painted onto the fronts of the shabby brick letterboxes. There were no oak-lined boulevards around here to admire, that was for sure.
'Which number did you say?' Jack asked into his earpiece, knowing Ianto was on the other end.
'Twenty six,' came the reply.
Jack could have rolled his eyes as he mentally counted up the street from where he'd pulled over. Only the shabbiest and most derelict of them all, of course. 'Yep, I see it,' he said. 'Speak to you later.'
It was a short walk and a battle to get past the rusty gate. At just four feet high it would have been easier just to jump over it. He rapped his knuckles on the door, noting there was no door bell. There was also no peep hole, which meant the person on the other side got an awful surprise when they finally opened the door and saw Jack standing there.
'Oh, bollocks.'
Jack repressed a grin. 'Bernie Harris. Long time no see.' Of course by long, he meant three months, which was the longest stint he'd gone without having to cross paths with a kid who found trouble more often than he found himself caught out in the rain.
'I swear I ain't done nothing.'
'Yeah, and I'm Shirley Bassey.' Jack nudged his way inside. Bernie took two steps back to maintain a safe distance. He didn't need to, but it gave Jack a good chance to look around the inside of the scruffy house. 'Got some strange reports of people seeing things that don't exist. A bad batch of pills they got from a Chinese herbalist, so they say.'
'Don't do drugs, me,' Bernie said. 'Fags and booze only.'
'Wise choice. Except when I spoke to the lady who runs the shop, she said all she'd sold them was tea. Fancy tea, I'll give you that. Little balls that open up into chrysanthemum flowers in your cup. Very expensive. I asked her where she got them and she gave me your address.'
Bernie puffed himself up a bit, which looked ridiculous in his bright green tracksuit. 'Got me a business going. Solid margins. Five quid each.'
Jack quirked an eyebrow. 'Herbal tea?' Then he levelled. 'I've seen these effects before Bernie, and I know they're alien so I'll ask you once. Where are they and how many have you got?'
Bernie chewed his lip. 'Promise you won't lock me up?'
'I wouldn't subject Ianto to you.'
Bernie walked him down the hall and into the back room, where two haybale-sized bags slumped the corner.
'That's quite an enterprise you've got there,' Jack said, mentally calculating the profits. 'Shame I have to confiscate it. Stick to selling cigarettes from now on.'
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack, Bernie Harris
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 184 - Enterprise at
anythingdrabbleSummary: Jack is unsurprised that Bernie's latest venture is causing problems.
Jack bit back on the groan escaping his lips as he turned the SUV into the derelict-looking street. They all looked like this in Splott. Home of the grifter and the disillusioned, he thought, slowing the car down to try and make out the numbers painted onto the fronts of the shabby brick letterboxes. There were no oak-lined boulevards around here to admire, that was for sure.
'Which number did you say?' Jack asked into his earpiece, knowing Ianto was on the other end.
'Twenty six,' came the reply.
Jack could have rolled his eyes as he mentally counted up the street from where he'd pulled over. Only the shabbiest and most derelict of them all, of course. 'Yep, I see it,' he said. 'Speak to you later.'
It was a short walk and a battle to get past the rusty gate. At just four feet high it would have been easier just to jump over it. He rapped his knuckles on the door, noting there was no door bell. There was also no peep hole, which meant the person on the other side got an awful surprise when they finally opened the door and saw Jack standing there.
'Oh, bollocks.'
Jack repressed a grin. 'Bernie Harris. Long time no see.' Of course by long, he meant three months, which was the longest stint he'd gone without having to cross paths with a kid who found trouble more often than he found himself caught out in the rain.
'I swear I ain't done nothing.'
'Yeah, and I'm Shirley Bassey.' Jack nudged his way inside. Bernie took two steps back to maintain a safe distance. He didn't need to, but it gave Jack a good chance to look around the inside of the scruffy house. 'Got some strange reports of people seeing things that don't exist. A bad batch of pills they got from a Chinese herbalist, so they say.'
'Don't do drugs, me,' Bernie said. 'Fags and booze only.'
'Wise choice. Except when I spoke to the lady who runs the shop, she said all she'd sold them was tea. Fancy tea, I'll give you that. Little balls that open up into chrysanthemum flowers in your cup. Very expensive. I asked her where she got them and she gave me your address.'
Bernie puffed himself up a bit, which looked ridiculous in his bright green tracksuit. 'Got me a business going. Solid margins. Five quid each.'
Jack quirked an eyebrow. 'Herbal tea?' Then he levelled. 'I've seen these effects before Bernie, and I know they're alien so I'll ask you once. Where are they and how many have you got?'
Bernie chewed his lip. 'Promise you won't lock me up?'
'I wouldn't subject Ianto to you.'
Bernie walked him down the hall and into the back room, where two haybale-sized bags slumped the corner.
'That's quite an enterprise you've got there,' Jack said, mentally calculating the profits. 'Shame I have to confiscate it. Stick to selling cigarettes from now on.'
