"I bloody hope not," Owen mutters absent-mindedly. He double checks her pulse against her carotid artery, then lays his palm flat against her throat. Seems slightly more appropriate than feeling up her chest to check for breathing, and he doesn't have a mirror on-hand. "Do you breathe when you speak?"

Jack is pleased and impressed with how well Owen is handling this, especially so soon after the most stressful day Torchwood has ever had. I knew I hired him for a reason.