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Hey, this is a PSA for any and all aboard the good ship Stacy: today is your lucky day, because none other than West Rosen is gracing you all with his presence in the icky fleshy canteen. How about that: a great dinner and great company.

The dinner is goop on goop with a side of tray, and the company is picking at it with the expression on his face of someone being asked to eat live maggots.

Come distract him from the menu? Please?

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Gwen doesn't know about lucky, considering she's spent the day covered in goo, walking around naked, and hearing pretty horrible stories about giant bugs whilst wondering how she ended up inside of a living ship.

So after some aimless wandering a few directions from various human and non-human co-prisoners alike, Gwen found her way to the canteen. She eyed the food, and decided to instead that the other people populating the canteen were probably much more interesting.

Besides, she wasn't that hungry anyway.

She spotted a young man sitting in a corner, staring down at his plate. She wandered up to him, trying look non-nonchalant, and nodded at the food. "Kind of like an episode of Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares, eh?"

Under normal circumstances, girl + skintight clothes would = oggling, but the tentacle-given plant-flesh suits would kill the libido of Casanova himself. West carefully avoids looking at it, instead glancing from her face to the delicacy in front of him and back again.

"I half-expect it to attack at any moment."

He's probably joking.

And Gwen is usually the type that's very at home with chatting up fit, young men, but becoming a prisoner on a ship is a far cry from the usual flirting environment of the local pub.

"From my understanding of what goes on around here, that's a possibility," Gwen replies, smiling. "I'm Gwen." She gestures towards the chair, hoping the young man might not mind some company. "I just got here, still tryin' to figure out what's going on."

Alas that their circumstances are tearing them apart before their epic romance can even begin. Although West is still only seventeen and thus not yet legal in some states, despite his actor being 3973649723 years old or something equally silly that no-one believes until they read it for themselves on his Wikipedia page.

...Anyway.

"My name's West," he says brightly. "And if by 'got here' you mean 'got puked out into a leaf's gut and molested by tentacles and men from Mars', then me too!"

IF HE CAN JOKE ABOUT IT THEN IT DOESN'T FREAK HIM OUT, YOU SEE okay yes it still really really does.

Which is a utter shame, really, as he is totally legal in her home country, and besides a minor fixation with co-dependency, Gwen's halfway decent ~~in bed~~ as a girlfriend, as most of her co-workers can account to.

But that statement makes her laugh, which really gets points in the whole "this is really weird and awkward" situation, and she takes a seat a the table. "Well, it's nice to meet another slime-covered victim of the tentacles," she says. "I've seen some really, really weird things in my time. But this... well, this is the weirdest."

Don't think because she smiling, she's not freaked out. Because, tentacles. Really?

West is from a more family-friendly show*, so his prowess in the bedroom remains a mystery for the fanficcers to resolve. On the other hand, it can't be denied that he's an attentive and devoted boyfriend. If you like the kind who wakes you up with a text telling you your breakfast pancakes smell good. Apparently such people exist. Maybe Claire Bennet is a closet Twilight fan.

"Yeah, it's always nice to know you're not alone when you've been bad-touched by plant feelers. It encourages that sort of horrified cameraderie."

*by which the narration means it has blood and gore and death in particularly violent spades, but no tits.

Conversely, it is common knowledge that everyone in Gwen's show is great in bed, because they tend to spend 99.9% of the episodes in them. You know, because when it comes to alien threats, snogging is always the answer!

"Alone is the last thing we are, have you seen how many people are on this ship?" She tilted her head. "So... where are you from? I mean, planet-wise."

Because, you know, Gwen loves catching herself an alien.

Actually, disregard the previous notice, because this narration just remembered the Fascinating Adventures of Nikki the Stripper, who never quite achieved boobs but did have a lot to say on the subject of underwear and straddling. On the other hand, no-one on Heroes has yet been turned into an insatiable nymphomaniac by an alien something-or-other, so clearly they still have a lot of catching up to do.

"I did see a whole truckful of people out in the big hall with... space outside," says West, who trusts that this description will be sufficient because really it's hard to forget that kind of room.

Sorry to disappoint, Gwen, but: "I'm one of the few, the proud, the Earthlings. And you are...?"

The mun really needs to be watching this show. Nymphomaniac aliens or no, Cardiff seems to have a huge lack of strippers, leaving a void in the life of every sex-crazed member of Torchwood whether they admit it or not.

Gwen nods along, following West's vague if clear line of thought. "I'm from Earth too," she says reassuringly. "I'm just... not exactly a stranger to this whole alien thing, anymore."

Yeah, Gwen's kind of bagging the whole Top Secret Special Ops BS, you know, considering the circumstances.

This mun has it on her list of things to watch. She writes fanfic too, on occasion, so maybe in the future the Torchwood crew can look forward to crossovers featuring superpowered sex workers. It would be for the good of the universe, or something.

"Yeah, I seem to be the only one who is a stranger to it," replies West, betraying a certain amount of frustration.

And with the possibility of there being Torchwood/Heroes crossovers, Heroes had moved up to the top of the list of shows the mun needs to start watching!

"You don't know anything about aliens, eh?" She grinned and leaned back in her chair smugly. "What do you want to know, then?"

Hot panfandom sex is what the internet was invented for, let's be honest here. The weirder the better.

West raises his eyebrows a little; when it comes to the dreaded smug, he can dish it but he's not so great at taking it. Gwen's offering him help, though, and he doesn't exactly want to alienate one of the only humans he's met, so he stays polite.

"What kind of aliens live in ships made of plant meat and abduct people from different universes? I don't know why, but that one's been bugging me lately."

Rule #34, yes?

And then this is where the mun usually takes a moment to headdesk at Gwen's uncanny ability to totally make a fool out of herself. She's actually quite good at it. It's not a real day at Torchwood if she doesn't.

So Gwen just shifts uncomfortably in her chair, flushes a little and tries to regain her composure. "Okay, I'm not much of an expert at that," she responds. "But I did meet a giant space whale once?"

Gwen is at least quickly learning that "alien expert" is a contradiction in terms!

Precisely.

West just looks at Gwen for several seconds, somewhat at a loss regarding how he should take her bit of information. Because, um. As far as bizarre non-sequiters go...

"Did it swallow people?"

This sort of sets Gwen off into a giggling fit. As random of a question as it is, it seems fair enough.

"No," she says, attempting to regain her composure. But thinking of the event helps sober her. "Actually we found out a company was harvesting it alive for the meat. Not a particularly nice story, I guess, but it was one of the few times we've - well, I've - met an alien that wasn't trying to kill us."

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