Ianto drained his glass and put it back on the bar, turning briefly to smile at the man next to him.
“What do you do, then?” he was asked, and said vaguely, “I’m in tourism.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie, after all. He still maintained the tourist information centre, even if it was closed more often than it was open these days.
Ben smiled, and asked, “And in your spare time?”
“I don’t have much spare time,” Ianto said, with a shrug, and Ben looked curious.
“Someone special keeping you busy?”
Ianto looked at him sideways, smiling wryly, and paused for a moment as he debated how to answer that. I had a girlfriend. She died, perhaps, or maybe, I thought there was, but it was one sided, or even, Not anymore. He left me. In the end he just shook his head, and said, “No. There’s no-one.”
He continued to turn aside the rest of Ben’s questions, from the next set while they were still at the bar (“You live round here?” – “In the area. I’d prefer your place.” – “Why not your place?” – “It’s a mess at the moment. Yours would be better.”) right up until the last gasps of coherency, stumbling through the door into Ben’s flat (“Who the hell are you, Ianto Jones?” – “Does it matter?”).
It was only much later that he found himself at a loss for an easy answer or a quick diversion.
So when Ben whispered, “Who’s Jack?” Ianto pretended to be asleep.
no subject
Secrets, Lies, Evasion
Ianto drained his glass and put it back on the bar, turning briefly to smile at the man next to him.
“What do you do, then?” he was asked, and said vaguely, “I’m in tourism.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie, after all. He still maintained the tourist information centre, even if it was closed more often than it was open these days.
Ben smiled, and asked, “And in your spare time?”
“I don’t have much spare time,” Ianto said, with a shrug, and Ben looked curious.
“Someone special keeping you busy?”
Ianto looked at him sideways, smiling wryly, and paused for a moment as he debated how to answer that. I had a girlfriend. She died, perhaps, or maybe, I thought there was, but it was one sided, or even, Not anymore. He left me. In the end he just shook his head, and said, “No. There’s no-one.”
He continued to turn aside the rest of Ben’s questions, from the next set while they were still at the bar (“You live round here?” – “In the area. I’d prefer your place.” – “Why not your place?” – “It’s a mess at the moment. Yours would be better.”) right up until the last gasps of coherency, stumbling through the door into Ben’s flat (“Who the hell are you, Ianto Jones?” – “Does it matter?”).
It was only much later that he found himself at a loss for an easy answer or a quick diversion.
So when Ben whispered, “Who’s Jack?” Ianto pretended to be asleep.