With Gabriel's new found ability of clairescence, he was going to get a lot from even the smallest of touches. The one most imprinted on the coffee machine was of a close and very personal friend of Jack's who had a particular way with that object. Ianto Jones was gone now, though. A ghost. There were so many ghosts lingering here, overlapping, just as strangely temporal as Jack himself.

Mohinder, who knew nothing of the joy and heartache built into the objects of the Hub, was gripping the rail for all his worth. "I'm sorry-- you hope it's suppose to be here," he breathed, changing his grip from metal to Gabriel. "There should not be dinosaurs in the UK. This can't be right!"

Just what was Torchwood?