It's not so awkward, and Jim can be heard chuckling faintly through it. "It's not an imposition, and yeah, it'll be good to see you again. Take care, and I'll catch up with you soon."
A slightly abrupt goodbye, but Jim really does have to wrap things up on the station. He's been up there for several days at this stage, barely sleeping and only remembering to eat when chased down by mild mannered reporter Clark Kent with a sandwich. Woof.
Jim's 'apartment' is more akin to a studio flat in an area barely elevated from tents - and actually, the tents would probably be nicer, but this is where he was shuffled when he arrived, so this is where he's stayed. A rough rectangle, all greens and browns and brassy metal fixtures, it consists of a main room with a closet, a weird native steampunk tech kitchenette, a table and chairs, and at the far end of the room, a rounded alcove where the modest bed is - a small hallway leads from there to the bathroom. There is indeed a ceiling fan in the center of the apartment, though it looks curiously out of place. Inspection suggests Jim made and stuck it up there himself, running off a battery pack drilled into the ceiling, able to be turned on with a push of a button.
Left on the table is the charger for his phone, and a sealed bottle of whiskey. There are no other personal affects - no trinkets laid around, no decoration, nothing. Jim's left everything of value in the open, an old habit of living in shitty areas and expecting thieves. Inside the fridge he's got a half-eaten casserole filled with god-knows-what, some old takeout, a few glass bottles of cheap, local beer. His bed is made with military precision, and everything is tidy. If Ianto chooses to do some snooping, he'll find a couple of changes of clothes in the closet (all native styles), and no-frills supplies in the bathroom. No sign of the mentioned medkit or whatever clothes he must have arrived with.
no subject
A slightly abrupt goodbye, but Jim really does have to wrap things up on the station. He's been up there for several days at this stage, barely sleeping and only remembering to eat when chased down by mild mannered reporter Clark Kent with a sandwich. Woof.
Jim's 'apartment' is more akin to a studio flat in an area barely elevated from tents - and actually, the tents would probably be nicer, but this is where he was shuffled when he arrived, so this is where he's stayed. A rough rectangle, all greens and browns and brassy metal fixtures, it consists of a main room with a closet, a weird native steampunk tech kitchenette, a table and chairs, and at the far end of the room, a rounded alcove where the modest bed is - a small hallway leads from there to the bathroom. There is indeed a ceiling fan in the center of the apartment, though it looks curiously out of place. Inspection suggests Jim made and stuck it up there himself, running off a battery pack drilled into the ceiling, able to be turned on with a push of a button.
Left on the table is the charger for his phone, and a sealed bottle of whiskey. There are no other personal affects - no trinkets laid around, no decoration, nothing. Jim's left everything of value in the open, an old habit of living in shitty areas and expecting thieves. Inside the fridge he's got a half-eaten casserole filled with god-knows-what, some old takeout, a few glass bottles of cheap, local beer. His bed is made with military precision, and everything is tidy. If Ianto chooses to do some snooping, he'll find a couple of changes of clothes in the closet (all native styles), and no-frills supplies in the bathroom. No sign of the mentioned medkit or whatever clothes he must have arrived with.