That voice. It rang in the back of his head, drawing up ghosts of memories. Owen shot up on the sofa, eyes falling on the figure out Captain Jack Bloody Harkness. He didn't look at all different from the last time Owen had saw him, when he'd made a fool of himself, fumbling for an apology before dissolving into tear on the shoulder of a man who would turn all of them over to a madman a few months later.
The rage and hurt and disgust all boiled up in Owen's stomach as he stared at the man that he longed to murder over and over and over again.
But he just couldn't work up the strength right now.
"Oh, like you don't know," Owen spat before falling back on the couch.