Jack hadn’t had time to visit torchwood’s inmates for a few weeks, so what he found when he finally ventured down to the cells concerned him.
“What’s wrong with Janet?”
The Weevil in question was huddled dejectedly in the far corner of her cell, moaning piteously.
“She’s fallen in love,” Ianto replied. “Unfortunately, the object of her affections doesn’t reciprocate her feelings.”
“Ah, poor old girl. Unrequited love sucks. So who’s the cad being so mean to our poor girl?”
Jack glanced around at the Weevils housed in nearby cells.
“Not a Weevil,” Ianto smirked. “Owen.”
Jack shrugged. “Close enough.”