He used to be good at this. Really. Years ago, before Torchwood— and even after, come to think of it— he was amazing at it. So why is this so bloody difficult?
They can't talk about home, he can't talk about the island, and most everything else feels like talking about work. He knew this was going to be weird from the start, and it's certainly delivered on that front.
"Not general settling in bollocks, that's for sure," Owen replies, and he glances over his shoulder for a moment, already looking for the waitress. Shouldn't she be back with their drinks by now?
"Where— where've you been keeping yourself when you're not at the shop?" he decides, because he'd like to think that even Tosh couldn't spend all of her days in that basement. Sure, there are about a million things worth studying in Darrow, but it's not as if they're living near an actual rift.
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They can't talk about home, he can't talk about the island, and most everything else feels like talking about work. He knew this was going to be weird from the start, and it's certainly delivered on that front.
"Not general settling in bollocks, that's for sure," Owen replies, and he glances over his shoulder for a moment, already looking for the waitress. Shouldn't she be back with their drinks by now?
"Where— where've you been keeping yourself when you're not at the shop?" he decides, because he'd like to think that even Tosh couldn't spend all of her days in that basement. Sure, there are about a million things worth studying in Darrow, but it's not as if they're living near an actual rift.