7 November 2018

lostfiles: (Now run for your life)
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“Not scapegoat, escaped goat,” Ianto enunciated, finger pressed to the comms in his ear. He watched from Jack’s office as an enormous, tusked, goat like alien with red eyes, fangs and green drool frothing from its mouth wreaked destruction in the hub. He winced as the coffee machine crashed to the floor, the creature chasing coffee beans under Tosh’s desk.

Ianto did a mental assessment of his odds of getting to the med bay for a tranq dart without getting garrotted or worse, his suit soiled with green coffee slobber.

"How far away are you?” he asked, into the comms.

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