poor bby jack

Jack noted the data scrolling across his computer and the pages and pages of information about the deranged women spread out across the table. He sighed, lamenting how much he missed his team, missed Owen and Tosh, missed the Hub and its battery of computers.
The kettle whistled on the counter behind him. He didn’t move, letting it build up its steam. He missed Ianto most of all.
“I hate doing this shit by myself.”
Coffee in hand, Jack sat down and carried on.
—  Torchwood: Exodus Code

Jack didn’t understand it, no matter how many times he washed his hands; scrubbed them until they were red raw, they still felt slick with blood. His hand eye coordination shot to all hell as he dropped yet another glass, watching as it smashed across the floor of the bar. “– Look, do me a favor, just.. watch the bar for a second.” Even before he’d shown up for work, he’d considered telling Noah he wanted some time off, but what would he do with that? No, all he needed was air; needed to set his head on straight.