milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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.~~]

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"No--just that old things are often more satisfying than new. I could, I suppose, keep a blog instead of a diary, but why would I want to do that?"

"I dunno, man," Hurley says. "I don't go in for that stuff myself."

"I'm Hurley, by the way."

"Ianto Jones.

"Not one for introspection, you mean?"

"No, just... internet blogs. I guess maybe cause I don't... have a computer anymore," Hurley says.

"Ah--given up on the internet, have you?"

"Kinda... stuck on an island," Hurley says. "After a... plane crash."

All traces of amusement vanish and he says quietly, "I'm sorry. That must be traumatic.

"At least you have this place as a retreat."

"Yeah, it kinda... yeah," Hurley says. "But don't worry about it. It's only... okay, yeah, it sucks."

"Surely they're looking for you, though. No downed airplane is left to just drift."

"Well, if they are, they've not found us," Hurley says. "Been over a week, now."

Ianto frowns. "What was the airline and flight number? I could look up things at home--

"Well." He considers. "Providing we're from the same Earth, of course. I always run into that problem."

"And the year," Hurley says. "I'm kinda from 2004," he says. "Oceanic 815, though."

Ianto shakes his head. "I don't recall hearing about that . . . we probably aren't.

"2006, though, that's my year. If there are records I could find them, but again, only if our Earth is the same."

Hurley shrugs. "It's okay, dude. I mean... for plane crash survivors, we're doing pretty okay."

"That's good. No going hungry, no being stalked by angry natives . . ." He tries to remember what happened in Robison Crusoe but it's been too long since he last read it.

"Yeah, don't think so," Hurley says. "And the hunger thing kinda... solved itself. At least for me."

"Yeah," Ianto says with a nod. "The bar. Thank God for it."

Even if all he's having is a cup of coffee. Sometimes it's just the break from normalcy that a man needs to find his feet again.

"I would be a lot more freaked out if I didn't know I had a little haven of... fried chicken and... stuff," Hurley says.

"All the food in the universe and you're sticking to fried chicken?"

Edited 2008-08-19 18:34 (UTC)

"...I like chicken," Hurley says with a shrug.

"Well, I come here for the coffee so I suppose I have no right to judge."

But it is really good coffee.

Hurley flashes a smile. "Yeah, good point," he says. "So, dude. Like... where are you from and stuff?"

"Cardiff, Wales. Great Britain," he adds, because very few people know what a 'Wales' is.

"Huh, neat," Hurley says. "That's cool. I don't think I've ever met, like, a Waler before."

"We're called 'Welsh'," Ianto says, utterly failing not to wince.