doesntdowood || closed rp

Blimey, he’d done it again. How many sonic screwdrivers would he have to construct and reconstruct before the latest model would slip from his hands and unceremoniously snap in half? Maybe that’s what he deserved for trying to use bits of alien tech he would find lying about Torchwood One — perfectly undisturbed, of course. (Well, not perfectly. Those bits and pieces may have been lying behind glass cases, and he may have borrowed them without letting his colleagues know — but he was desperate and in need of a bloody screwdriver!) 

And apparently, he was in need of another. Crouching down to pick up the shattered remnants of the device (Sonic Screwdriver 9.0, to be specific), he figured this had to be the worst place he could possibly let an alien tool fall into view. He just had to bring it on his walk to the grocery shop, hadn’t he? And it just had to be one of the busiest days of the week, where any passerby could spot him (and possibly accuse him of keeping a weapon). Naturally, someone had noticed his frenzy — a young woman, who undoubtedly seemed a bit familiar, though he couldn’t quite place why — and he promptly stuffed the metallic rod into his back pocket in hopes she wouldn’t comment.

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