Torchwood ficlet
Jul. 8th, 2009 12:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mylodonIn honour of Torchwood and the first test, both happening in Cardiff this week!
“So the guy out there’s in?”
“Yep. Until he’s out. Then he comes back in again.”
“He goes back in out there?” With anyone else, Jack would have suspected he was having the piss taken out of him, but Ianto seemed in deadly earnest.
“No. Once he’s out he comes back in here.” Ianto indicated the changing rooms. “Until he goes out to field.” He pointed to the expanse of green. “Or goes in again, second innings.”
“I guess somebody understands it. Seems pretty pointless to me.” Jack leaned over the balcony railings. “Lot of fuss about nothing.”
“Sorry to contradict you,” Ianto clearly wasn’t, “but this is regarded as one of the great sporting contests. Enmity goes back a long way.”
“Yeah, now I can understand that. You used them as a dumping ground for all your criminals.” Jack grinned. “No wonder they hate you.”
“It’s not quite like that.”
“It’s just like that – I know. When I was out there with Bligh I saw them all coming off the ships. That guy,” Jack picked out a swarthy bottle-blond figure among a throng of journalists, “is he some sort of time agent? Could have sworn I saw him back then. In irons.”
“Keep your voice down. That’s Shane Warne.” Ianto initiated damage limitation mode and dragged his boss away. “Let’s at least look like we’re busy.”
“Why are we supposed to be here?”
“I told them there are tunnels running right under square leg. Makes a weevil attack on the England team more likely.”
“Why should anyone want to attack the England team? They’re not even that fit.” Jack leered. “Not like when we went to the rugby. That Alun Lyn Jones. Hot.”
“Alun Wyn. Anyway, I told the authorities the weevils regard Andrew Flintoff as a totemic figure – didn’t have to make that bit up.”
“And the truth is?”
“I couldn’t get tickets the normal channels, not for love nor money. And I tried both.” Ianto rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Get to see the whole match now.”
“I’m gonna regret this – why the hell do they call it the Ashes?”
“Ah. It’s symbolic.” Ianto’s eyes took on a strange, almost hypnotised appearance. “The ashes of English cricket, cremated and placed in an urn. They say it’s the ashes of a bail, only that would be pretty hard to burn, so there’s a theory it’s one of the women’s veils.” He turned to Jack, a maniacal grin cracking his face. “You couldn’t just get the Doctor to go back and find, out, could you? In the interests of historical accuracy.”
“Want me to tell you what to do with your historical accuracy?” Jack grimaced. “Anyway, tell me again. This guy goes out there and you say he’s in…”
“So the guy out there’s in?”
“Yep. Until he’s out. Then he comes back in again.”
“He goes back in out there?” With anyone else, Jack would have suspected he was having the piss taken out of him, but Ianto seemed in deadly earnest.
“No. Once he’s out he comes back in here.” Ianto indicated the changing rooms. “Until he goes out to field.” He pointed to the expanse of green. “Or goes in again, second innings.”
“I guess somebody understands it. Seems pretty pointless to me.” Jack leaned over the balcony railings. “Lot of fuss about nothing.”
“Sorry to contradict you,” Ianto clearly wasn’t, “but this is regarded as one of the great sporting contests. Enmity goes back a long way.”
“Yeah, now I can understand that. You used them as a dumping ground for all your criminals.” Jack grinned. “No wonder they hate you.”
“It’s not quite like that.”
“It’s just like that – I know. When I was out there with Bligh I saw them all coming off the ships. That guy,” Jack picked out a swarthy bottle-blond figure among a throng of journalists, “is he some sort of time agent? Could have sworn I saw him back then. In irons.”
“Keep your voice down. That’s Shane Warne.” Ianto initiated damage limitation mode and dragged his boss away. “Let’s at least look like we’re busy.”
“Why are we supposed to be here?”
“I told them there are tunnels running right under square leg. Makes a weevil attack on the England team more likely.”
“Why should anyone want to attack the England team? They’re not even that fit.” Jack leered. “Not like when we went to the rugby. That Alun Lyn Jones. Hot.”
“Alun Wyn. Anyway, I told the authorities the weevils regard Andrew Flintoff as a totemic figure – didn’t have to make that bit up.”
“And the truth is?”
“I couldn’t get tickets the normal channels, not for love nor money. And I tried both.” Ianto rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Get to see the whole match now.”
“I’m gonna regret this – why the hell do they call it the Ashes?”
“Ah. It’s symbolic.” Ianto’s eyes took on a strange, almost hypnotised appearance. “The ashes of English cricket, cremated and placed in an urn. They say it’s the ashes of a bail, only that would be pretty hard to burn, so there’s a theory it’s one of the women’s veils.” He turned to Jack, a maniacal grin cracking his face. “You couldn’t just get the Doctor to go back and find, out, could you? In the interests of historical accuracy.”
“Want me to tell you what to do with your historical accuracy?” Jack grimaced. “Anyway, tell me again. This guy goes out there and you say he’s in…”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-08 11:51 am (UTC)Now I want to see them at the World Series doing "Who's on First?"
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-08 12:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-08 12:57 pm (UTC)Have to say, I loved “Yeah, now I can understand that. You used them as a dumping ground for all your criminals.” Jack grinned. “No wonder they hate you.”
Although, I'm not sure if Australia even EXISTS in Torchwood's world anymore..I mean, with reports coming in from 'all around the world' about the children, Australia wasn't mentioned..
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-08 01:03 pm (UTC)For love nor money now. Do tell about the "love" bit!!
"dumping ground for all your criminals" ... yeah yeah, but we scrubbed up orright in the end ... well some of us. As for Warnie ... sigh / sporfle!
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-08 01:34 pm (UTC)I love the cricket when I get a chance to watch, really I do, but it just doesn't seem the same anymore. You know Jim Maxwell, the Aussie cricket commentator? Well, his son lives four rooms down from me and was my hopeless boyfriend for an entire week. Hard to listen to the cricket when the voice sounds like a 40-years-older version of your ex.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-08 04:01 pm (UTC)Oh, that was great! :D
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-08 04:01 pm (UTC)What did Warnie do to get shipped out to good old NSW? (which, incidentally, looks nothing like south Wales) text messaging hadn't been invented yet... Maybe he got over ambitious with his merchant career :)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-08 05:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-09 12:00 pm (UTC)Lol @ Jack thinking Warnie was a time agent. Maybe he is ;)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-19 10:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From: