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Owen didn't mind the afterlife, really. It had its advantages -- no need for medical care, and the apparently-just-as-real-as-he-was not-so-fictional characters made entertaining conversationalists. Plus he had the recent benefit of Ianto's excellent home cooking.
Usually.
"What is this?" he asked, poking at his slab of rare... something. Beside him, Suzie was digging in with gusto.
"Hippogriff, I think," Ianto said cheerfully. "Not exactly legal, but don't worry, it's probably safe to eat."
"We're dead," Suzie pointed out. "It's not like it matters. Seconds?"
Ianto beamed and shovelled another helping onto her plate. The smell was nauseating.
Owen missed being alive.