TW Picspam #7 - Greeks Bearing Gifts
All caps are mine, blah blah blah expositioncakes.
Marianne Dashwood wants her dress back.
That's OFFICER Girlyman to you, wench.
It's that girl from Scene 1! I bet this is IMPORTANT.
Jack wishes he were at a party where a girl was crying in the corner. Even OWEN thinks that's weird.
She's dead, Jim!
He's not just light, he can FLY.
"Fat girls love it." You prick.
Waaaiiiiit...did he call me...?
I wonder if this doohickey could be just a little more sonic.
Don't. Mess. With. My. Surge. Protector.
Owen really IS bad at sport - he throws the ball so softly that it doesn't make a sound.
Drowning her sorrows. Oh, honey, you just THINK you have a problem.
This? Is your REAL problem.
Stopwatches at the ready, because five straight minutes of exposition start...now!
Who's complaining about exposition? I finally have LINES!
They gave you lines but forgot about the lumpy bra.
This guy isn't going to get laid, by man or woman, ever.
We all need a breath of fresh air after five solid minutes of exposition.
Hello, Ianto!
"Catholic but grateful?" Owen. You PIG.
He's not my type, anyway.
Gwen: Scratch N Sniff.
Ianto has rats in his tummy. Bless. See you again in the last five minutes, Ianto.
Tosh hosts a pity party for two.
Beauty and the Beast.
Girlsnog! With no alien gas or anything this time!
Tosh has a really, really great bedroom.
And a really, really cheesy birthday card from Owen.
People...people who read people...
Middle-eastern-looking guy carrying a gun and thinking about offing people. No, that's not a stereotype at ALL.
Especially not when his wife is Welsh.
And his child is made of cardboard.
Not really sure if Tosh should've used that nine-iron.
Jack: Heh heh heh, Owen throws like a girl.
STFU, dude.
"How to Win Friends and Influence People," by Gwen Cooper.
"A VERY girly man." Threatened much, Owen?
Gwen, you might want to rethink taunting a doctor who's cleaning a knife.
Whatcha lookin' at, Jack?
Exposition is now Kissposition.
Even the corpse wants the story to move on a bit.
She really IS gorgeous, but Owen's head is so far up...oh, never mind.
Tosh is NOT thinking about shoes.
Owen is so sour that sugar actually sickens him.
"Why the hell isn't he looking at me?"
"I think my desk is on fire." Heh.
Jack has been taking lessons on room entrances from Josh Lyman.
Jack likes big hands. BIG hands.
WhatEVer
Jack is good with the eyebrow.
Alien wrestling practice.
Jack's brain: No Entrance.
No way.
It's great feng shui to have your braces and walls match.
Surprise! Mary's an alien! Sure didn't see that coming!
Great. First snog since Christmas, and it's with an alien.
Meanwhile, back at the hub, Owen has an idea.
Meanwhile, back at the flat, Tosh doesn't like her life very much.
Just in case you forgot his name, the BBC wants to help you.
Jack stepped out for a bit of fresh air.
Owen does his dance of success. Don't ever do that again, 'k?
Someone in the visual department really, really didn't like someone named Myra Bennett.
Random Weevilvision!
Wallow, Toshiko, wallow.
Can you hear me now?
Tosh brings Mary to the Hub. Nothing bad ever came of sneaking your lover into the Hub, really. Just ask Ianto. Also, Mary is good at both cleavage and Coleridge.
Whenever a friend acts out of character, Jack does an impression of Blanche du Bois.
Tosh and Mary just say no to A Streetcar Named Splott.
Two squid transporter. It might explain all the rust.
Jane Austen and the Temple of Doom.
Owen is disgusted that Mary killed so many people. Ianto is disgusted that Mary wears dark purple blouses with violet tights.
Awwww, Ianto and Jack have matching eyebrows.
Not really relevant, but I love the blocking here.
Torchwood workers have such great taste in lovers.
Ianto is becoming phobic about sharp objects, and who can blame him?
Telepathy with Jack is a one-way street.
Jack smells different. Also, he's very shiny.
Say goodbye to Mary Sunshine!
Meeting of the "Jack Harkness Killed My Lover" club.
Meeting of the "Moral Low Ground" club.
Jack wonders what you can do with red tape and a stopwatch.
Tactile alert!
Tactile alert, again!
Seriously, this guy is off the scale. Not that Tosh seems to mind. Happy dreams, Tosh.
***
Next up: They Keep Killing Susie. Fun and games, that Susie.
Marianne Dashwood wants her dress back.
That's OFFICER Girlyman to you, wench.
It's that girl from Scene 1! I bet this is IMPORTANT.
Jack wishes he were at a party where a girl was crying in the corner. Even OWEN thinks that's weird.
She's dead, Jim!
He's not just light, he can FLY.
"Fat girls love it." You prick.
Waaaiiiiit...did he call me...?
I wonder if this doohickey could be just a little more sonic.
Don't. Mess. With. My. Surge. Protector.
Owen really IS bad at sport - he throws the ball so softly that it doesn't make a sound.
Drowning her sorrows. Oh, honey, you just THINK you have a problem.
This? Is your REAL problem.
Stopwatches at the ready, because five straight minutes of exposition start...now!
Who's complaining about exposition? I finally have LINES!
They gave you lines but forgot about the lumpy bra.
This guy isn't going to get laid, by man or woman, ever.
We all need a breath of fresh air after five solid minutes of exposition.
Hello, Ianto!
"Catholic but grateful?" Owen. You PIG.
He's not my type, anyway.
Gwen: Scratch N Sniff.
Ianto has rats in his tummy. Bless. See you again in the last five minutes, Ianto.
Tosh hosts a pity party for two.
Beauty and the Beast.
Girlsnog! With no alien gas or anything this time!
Tosh has a really, really great bedroom.
And a really, really cheesy birthday card from Owen.
People...people who read people...
Middle-eastern-looking guy carrying a gun and thinking about offing people. No, that's not a stereotype at ALL.
Especially not when his wife is Welsh.
And his child is made of cardboard.
Not really sure if Tosh should've used that nine-iron.
Jack: Heh heh heh, Owen throws like a girl.
STFU, dude.
"How to Win Friends and Influence People," by Gwen Cooper.
"A VERY girly man." Threatened much, Owen?
Gwen, you might want to rethink taunting a doctor who's cleaning a knife.
Whatcha lookin' at, Jack?
Exposition is now Kissposition.
Even the corpse wants the story to move on a bit.
She really IS gorgeous, but Owen's head is so far up...oh, never mind.
Tosh is NOT thinking about shoes.
Owen is so sour that sugar actually sickens him.
"Why the hell isn't he looking at me?"
"I think my desk is on fire." Heh.
Jack has been taking lessons on room entrances from Josh Lyman.
Jack likes big hands. BIG hands.
WhatEVer
Jack is good with the eyebrow.
Alien wrestling practice.
Jack's brain: No Entrance.
No way.
It's great feng shui to have your braces and walls match.
Surprise! Mary's an alien! Sure didn't see that coming!
Great. First snog since Christmas, and it's with an alien.
Meanwhile, back at the hub, Owen has an idea.
Meanwhile, back at the flat, Tosh doesn't like her life very much.
Just in case you forgot his name, the BBC wants to help you.
Jack stepped out for a bit of fresh air.
Owen does his dance of success. Don't ever do that again, 'k?
Someone in the visual department really, really didn't like someone named Myra Bennett.
Random Weevilvision!
Wallow, Toshiko, wallow.
Can you hear me now?
Tosh brings Mary to the Hub. Nothing bad ever came of sneaking your lover into the Hub, really. Just ask Ianto. Also, Mary is good at both cleavage and Coleridge.
Whenever a friend acts out of character, Jack does an impression of Blanche du Bois.
Tosh and Mary just say no to A Streetcar Named Splott.
Two squid transporter. It might explain all the rust.
Jane Austen and the Temple of Doom.
Owen is disgusted that Mary killed so many people. Ianto is disgusted that Mary wears dark purple blouses with violet tights.
Awwww, Ianto and Jack have matching eyebrows.
Not really relevant, but I love the blocking here.
Torchwood workers have such great taste in lovers.
Ianto is becoming phobic about sharp objects, and who can blame him?
Telepathy with Jack is a one-way street.
Jack smells different. Also, he's very shiny.
Say goodbye to Mary Sunshine!
Meeting of the "Jack Harkness Killed My Lover" club.
Meeting of the "Moral Low Ground" club.
Jack wonders what you can do with red tape and a stopwatch.
Tactile alert!
Tactile alert, again!
Seriously, this guy is off the scale. Not that Tosh seems to mind. Happy dreams, Tosh.
***
Next up: They Keep Killing Susie. Fun and games, that Susie.