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It's a Ianto!

He is not on a mountain in Wales, icon to the contrary. He is not even on a mountain at the end of the Universe, though he thinks when the weather's better he might go explore that one.

He is, however, peacefully drinking coffee.

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A tilt of his head.

"Me, do you mean?"

"You, other fae, anyone with a little magic in their voice..."

[ooc: Hometime for me and then writing time. Wrap/fade/slow?]

Puck laughs, softly.

"There is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ-- that much I shall grant. Though I flatter myself that words are not my only medium."

"And what other media would those be?" Ianto asks with a slightly indulgent smile. You could hardly tell he's information-gathering, could you?

He grins.

He's rather accustomed to showing off, in any case.

"Why, I might overcast the night, or come upon you in likeness of a filly foal-- though I have found not all the horses here are quite so friendly to me in that guise as they might be elsewhere."

That Ravenscourt is a tough nut to crack, man.

"Oh, my," Ianto says in a suitably impressed tone. "Overcast the night. Terrifying."

Puck rolls his eyes.

He's not an idiot, coffeeboy.

"If such terrifies you, sir, 'tis a wonder you yet live in this place."

"It doesn't, really," Ianto says. "I'm from Wales."

The O's should be a dead giveaway.

"And a marvelous country it is, to turn out such stock," he says sourly.

There's a decent chance he's ... not actually talking about Ianto.

Not that Ianto could be expected to know that.

"Thank you, I think," Ianto says and sips his coffee.

"Put it out of your mind," he assures him sweetly.

The urge to eyeroll is, once again, strong.

"And for the moment, put me there as well-- or at least, being somewhat out of sight, I expect that is more or less my destination."

(He disappears.)

Ianto sighs a little.

The disappearing will take some getting used to.

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