Characters: Coat, Jack.
Written For: Challenge 460: Mud at tw100.
Summary: Coat is not at all happy with the current state of affairs.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: This one’s a double drabble.
‘Mud, mud, glorious mud,’ thought Coat sarcastically. Realistically, it knew its current predicament wasn’t really Jack’s fault, he couldn’t always choose where he died, but nevertheless, lying in the middle of this muddy wallow in the pouring rain was not a situation Coat would ever have wanted to find itself in. To make matters worse, with its limited independent mobility, it had no way of extricating itself from the morass.
It could feel the glutinous, slimy mud soaking into its fibres, and shuddered faintly. The sensation was disgusting. How did people stand it? It had heard tell, because it always listened in to any conversations held in its vicinity, that mud was excellent for improving the condition of human skin, but it very much doubted the same held true for high quality wool blend. Humans were clearly much less absorbent, not to mention a whole lot easier to clean. All they had to do was stand under running water and the dirt practically fell off them. Coat experienced a most unexpected pang of envy. People didn’t know how lucky they were.
It hoped Jack revived soon so they could both get out of here and see about getting themselves cleaned.