(no subject)

[likesthecoat]

As usual, Ianto is sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee and his diary.

If one were to peek over his shoulder, one would see the words, "Today is my birthday" written at the top of today's page.

But one wouldn't do that, would one? It's terribly bad manners.


[tags of smallness: Maj. Evan Lorne, Billy Kaplan.]

[ooc: Work-relate slowtime in effect.]

Comments

[bluespells.livejournal.com]

A few stools down the bar there's a teenager playing a nintendo DS. It's making irritating electronic noises, combined with the bapbapbapbap sound of a stylus.

Not exactly an atmosphere conductive to journal writing.

[likesthecoat]

Ianto glances up a few times. Not that he's writing much anyway.

"Could you turn that down, please?"

[bluespells.livejournal.com]

Bapbapbapbapbap-VICTORY MUSIC. Satisfied, Billy clicks the DS closed and looks up, a little sheepish.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you could hear it."

[likesthecoat]

"Yes, as I'm not deaf," Ianto says dryly.

[bluespells.livejournal.com]

"The bar's pretty noisy, though," Billy points out, perhaps a little peevishly.

[goodolefuntime.livejournal.com]

"Dude, is that a diary?" Hurley asks, sitting down near Ianto.

[likesthecoat]

Ianto raises his eyebrows. He's rarely addressed as 'dude.' "Yes."

[goodolefuntime.livejournal.com]

"Wow. I haven't seen anyone write one of those, like, actually in forever," Hurley says.

[likesthecoat]

"I'm a traditionalist in many respects," Ianto says.

[callmemajor]

Someone (who has never put too terribly much stock in perfect manners), glances over his shoulder, grins and sneaks off.

When he comes back, he sets a cupcake on the table in front of Ianto.

It's possible he's still grinning.

[likesthecoat]

Ianto looks at the cupcake, then at the major, and actually laughs.

"Thank you."

[callmemajor]

"You're welcome," Lorne says, pulling up a chair next to Ianto.

"Got any big plans for the day?"

[likesthecoat]

"I have a hope," Ianto says as he peels off the paper. "Not entirely a plan.

"Would you like half?"

[gammagammahey.livejournal.com]

A door opens, and in steps the very tall and very green Jennifer Walters. It's hot, muggy, and sticky on the East Coast back home, even when you're spending time driving around in an air conditioned Air Stream trailer with a Skrull and dealing with a widespread alien invasion bent on spiritually and physically dominating Earth with a particularly psychedelic brand of Skrullish messianic fervor.

Since it's morning back on Jen's Earth, she decides that a substantial breakfast is in order. This is why she picks a stool near Ianto, opens her Hulk-sized purple bike messenger bag, removes a laptop, places it on top of the bar, and boots it up while ordering enough food to feed a platoon.

"Bar, if you're not too busy, please give me a six egg Southwest omelette with plenty of anchos, home fries, blueberry muffins, pico de gallo, pan de huevo, fruit salad with mango, coffee on infinite refill, and a side of salsa verde. Good morning, fellow patron," she adds, with a smile and polite nod at Ianto.

[likesthecoat]

"Good morning," says Ianto. Even Torchwood doesn't expose him to large green women all that often--never, in fact--but he can still be polite.

[gammagammahey.livejournal.com]

It's probably far, far too early to ask Ianto if he comes here often.

"I don't believe we've met, although my visits lately have been few and far between. Come here often?"

Meanwhile, Jen's laptop, which contains enough quantum-powered processing might to run an entire space fleet - courtesy of Reed Richards - projects a breathtakingly vivid 3D hologram of the planet Earth, rotating very slowly twenty inches or so above the keyboard. Earth is about the size of a large grapefuit. Red coloration begins to appear as fine speckles and patches over certain major cities.

Jen ignores this. For now.

[likesthecoat]

Ianto does not, because it's so cool.

"Not often enough, I think," he says faintly, and then shakes his head a little and smiles.

"I don't believe we have, either. Ianto Jones."

[bloody-awful.livejournal.com]

A dirty old man in a trenchcoat sits down next to him and slides over a flat box in a plain brown wrapper.

[likesthecoat]

Ianto does not grin or even smile, as such, but there's definitely something brighter in his face.

"And what's this?"

[bloody-awful.livejournal.com]

"Open it."

[ooc: mun helpfully informs that the box contains,wrapped in tissue, a pair of burgundy silk boxer shorts and a note: "Happy birthday. J.C."]

[likesthecoat]

Ianto unwraps the gift and does smile, pleased, when he sees its contents. "They're lovely. Thank you." He leans over and kisses John.

[necessary_child]

Sam would never be bad-mannered!

Honest.

This is why he's totally not peering over Ianto's shoulder.

"Boo."

[likesthecoat]

Ianto reaches back and pats his cheek. "Hullo, Sam."

[necessary_child]

Sam grins. "Hey, birthday boy."

One hand snakes around Ianto's side from behind to present him with a cupcake with a candle on.

"Shopping's a little tricky in here. But I can usually manage to be creative."

[likesthecoat]

"Aw, thank you, Sam," Ianto says and takes the cupcake. "Should I make a wish?"