Toshiko brings her a pretty greeting card of Lakshmi, all gold foil and blushy pinks, and she and Ianto present it to Suzie with cups of chai for the three of them. No chai for Owen or Jack -- they don't care for it -- but Jack tells them all a long and only slightly eye-roll-worthy story about a Mughal dinner party he once attended that ended up with a contest involving (of course) Kama Sutra positions.

Suzie drinks her delicious chai, and props the card up on her desk, and explains very nicely to Owen what the Festival of Lights is all about. She makes a note to herself to pick up some gulab jamoon and laddoo when she goes out for lunch, because Ianto had seemed politely disappointed that she hadn't brought any sweets.

She'll bring them a big box, and share the syrupy, milky sweets around, and she'll smile and laugh and won't tell them that she hasn't celebrated Diwali since her mother died. She can hardly bear to think of the smell of the ghee-smoke, the sound of her mother's voice singing bhajans, the weight of the sari she only put on once a year. In a way, the Torchwood version of Diwali with mass-produced cards and Welsh chai and stupid ancient sex-stories is better, because it dulls those memories, gives her something new to concentrate on.

She might call her father. Suzie looks at the gold spilling from Maha Lakshmi's hand, the serene look on Ganesh's face, and thinks, yes. She might even do that.

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