[Video// Torchwood security lock private]

[coimiceoir]

[To: Captain and Athair]

[The video clicks on to a pink nose which withdraws to show a very mischievous wolf looking rather pleased with herself. Reaching off-screen, she lifts into view a familiar chunk of twisted masonry and metal, with a shining pocket watch draped over it. Setting them down before her paws, she prances, dropping into a play bow with a grin, tail waving. She places a smug paw over the items, gently lifts them in her mouth, dances off, leaving a single sugar cube on the carpet. After a moment, the camera clicks off. Hope you're ready to play~]

Comments

[chronosexual]

It isn't as though it would stop her. The little people are mischievous and playful. Even in wolf form, I guess.

[ Jack takes one of the chocolate-covered espresso beans and pops it into his mouth before he lifts and examines his mouse. ]

Well I'd say this one is pretty obvious. [ He pockets his sweets in his coat and starts for his office. ] Any idea why she's doing this?

[stopwatchesandcoffee]

Oh, I can think of at least one.

[He makes no sign of telling Jack, however, that little smile still on his face. He follows along after him as he turns the ring around his finger, arms behind his back.]

[chronosexual]

Of course you do.

[ Jack gives Ianto a strange look, but doesn't press the issue, despite his curiosity. He'll find out soon enough, he hopes. Upon reaching his office, he notices the door slightly ajar and steps in, eyes scanning the room for some sign that sneaky Aisling had been there. ]

[coimiceoir]

[Everything was as per normal - just at that middling level of clutter that hadn't yet compelled Ianto to go on a cleaning spree. Papers and files stacked here and there, an artifact being used as a paperweight, two or three pens poking out from under things, desk drawer ajar... Wait. Drawer ajar? Weren't those always locked? If he checks, Jack will find the key has vanished from its usual place.

There are no tricks or traps. Not even an explosion of plants. Instead, they may find a pair of ancient silver-bladed daggers in leather sheathes worn shiny with use. Each sheath has a long leather thong to enable a person to tie the dagger to a belt or about a leg. The daggers themselves are slim enough to fit into a boot, and balanced nicely for throwing or stabbing, only about as long as your palm. Each hilt is all-of-a-piece in simple dark wood, twisted in a slow spiral that looks as supple as taffy, with a smooth finial that sports an understated sunburst design similar but not precisely like the broaches Aisling had given them for Christmas.

A trio of snowdrops lie between the daggers.]