New House, Night, Owen and Gwen
Owen had long ago lost track of time, aside from knowing it was at least six months since they'd arrived there. That was about all he could tell you for certain, and even that wasn't always concrete in his mind. When you spent your days fighting to survive and monitoring a damn Rift, how long you'd been there kind of fell by the wayside.
At the moment he was in one of the New House kitchens, having just come back from a run to the MacGregor convenience store. It was the middle of the night, which meant he'd just spent twenty minutes chatting up the pyrokinetic with the nice rack and whose name he was pretty sure was Lori or Laura or something like that before popping back with the coffee grounds, filters, and creamer he'd gone in search of.
Owen was in the middle of cleaning out the coffeemaker -- Jesus, he missed Ianto something fierce -- when he thought he felt the floor under his feet shake. Concerned and remembering the other natural events/disasters they'd faced since ending up there, he went still for a moment. When he didn't feel anything, he went back to the coffee machine.
Less than five minutes later, there was a very distinct tremor. "GWEN!" he yelled, attempts at coffee abandoned as he bolted off in the direction of the room he shared with Gwen. "Wake up!"