(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

[bloody-awful.livejournal.com]

"Crap? Who's giving crap?" John says. "Just sharing information, me. Next you see him, give him my ... love."

He leans back in his chair, takes out a cigarette and lights it with considerable flair. "So, ready for dessert? Or should we just skip it and go right upstairs?"

[likesthecoat]

Ianto doesn't say anything as he deliberately wipes his mouth with his napkin.

"Let's go upstairs. There's no reason to put off the sex any longer."

[bloody-awful.livejournal.com]

"No. No reason at all."

... again, if you didn't know John you wouldn't notice it, but there's something about his voice and the way he stands up and pushes his chair back ... as if he wished otherwise.

As if he'd almost dared to wish for more, once.

Life's a bitch, innit?

[likesthecoat]

Ianto would never presume to think he knows Constantine . . . but his expression is troubled and he doesn't move right away.

"Right." He pushes himself up and tucks the box under his arm.