PROMPT 1: IANTO
Strangers arguing was not, as a rule, something that was of particular interest to Ianto. Then again, as a rule strangers weren't something that were of particular interest in and of themselves either, a tendency which Torchwood Three had largely only strengthened with their hidden base underneath Cardiff, the dark tunnels he'd spent much of his time in, and his fellow reclusive, misanthropic coworkers. He typically thought of himself as Lawful Neutral in spirit if not in literal practice, though admittedly that was as much to do with a groundless dislike of the over-simplicity of True Neutral and an even more groundless distaste for those who aspired to Chaotic Anything. Either way, there were dozens of hero-types at Derleth and he was content to leave the needless extra credit work to them.
To that point he barely even noticed the two men engaged in a heated discussion in the street, acknowledging them only as much as was necessary to shift his path around them. He trusted his subconscious to pick up on anything odd in their words that might have actually been important, and nothing had piqued his interest - nothing, at least, until one went for the knife at his belt. Almost before he could even register moving, Ianto felt a sharp pain above his elbow and realised that he was now, suddenly, standing between the men to defend the would-be victim.
Well, that shirt's ruined, he noted, pressing his right hand to the wound as the fabric began darkening with blood. Perhaps not the biggest priority, but the only other thought he could summon was a resounding what the fuck? and a vague relief that Derleth had its own medical staff who were familiar with antibiotics and hand-washing. Fortunately, the aggressor seemed shocked enough to have actually wounded someone to take hold of his senses again while his rival beat a hasty retreat. Honestly, Ianto couldn't entirely blame him. The altercation had drawn attention now that a third party had been drawn in so his assistance was hardly needed, and it was probably better that he disappear now before the lunatic with a knife remembered how bloody pissed off he was.
"I'm fine, it's fine," he attempted to assure the townsfolk, dismissing them with a nod of the head since his hands were otherwise occupied in either dangling uselessly or putting pressure on the gash, trying to hold it closed. "I'll have my, er, sister bandage it up." He wasn't even sure who in Derleth would have been a good stand in for a sister, but it seemed to be an adequate excuse and he hurried away, wondering what exactly had just happened.