Practically speaking, life here wasn’t that much different from Torchwood. Fight the monsters, teach other people how to fight the monsters, try to keep the loss and trauma to a minimum, and make as many people uncomfortable via flirting as possible.
There was, however, one notable problem for Jack--at least for now, without any sort of major breach happening (and he had to give them all credit for managing so well on what they had), he had a regular watch and that meant being around >all the time looked a little suspicious. At least back home he’d always had the excuse of the Rift being unpredictable to wave away his restless vigilance.
He knew he’d have to probably come clean eventually, and deal with the repercussions of people’s broken trust (‘we knew nothing Jack’--and why did it not surprise him that, as much as he was trying to box up the memories of his team so he wouldn't think about poor Owen, he still heard Gwen Cooper chastising him in his mind). But for now, he was going to keep trying to play the role of the slightly-eccentric but totally-mortal flyboy, and that meant walking away from the wall when his shift was over and going--somewhere.
Jack wasn’t quite sure where he was walking, just letting his feet lead the way and occasionally glancing down at his vortex manipulator, vainly hoping it would tell him anything about this place. Of course it wasn’t being any more helpful than it had the night before, but Jack wasn’t about to give up hope. After all, never knew what kinds of energies and particles might be hanging around inside.
So it was, softly whistling Pack Up Your Troubles, Jack wandered into the community center, pausing and face breaking in a mostly-genuine grin when he saw the lovely Ms. Forbes at work.
“Now, if I knew I’d be finding a dancing blonde here, I’d have brought my wallet."