Cal immediately digs out his gloves. Being from New York, he's no stranger to cold weather, but he hasn't built up the endurance that he could have, either.
"I could stand something to eat before the tour," he says. Gloves on, he looks around. It is not his first visit to a different world (it is, technically, his third, if one counts the place his resurrection occurred; he would be quite surprised to learn that it's only his second different world), but he didn't exactly go touring Bela's world. Unless touring the world is the slang the kids are using these days for having sex in private box seating during an opera.
It is, however, his first real look at a foreign country. So he looks around with interest. He'd be happy with pretty much anything Ianto might suggest.
"Well, we can do a pub and you can have something genuinely Welsh, like rarebit or a pasty. There's a sushi place that I like not far from here, or just stop for some chips, or I can cook and I actually have food in my kitchen, for once."
He could not repeat that restaurant name if he was paid to, but that will be a theme today, and he doesn't really care right now. Maybe he'll look into picking up some Welsh later.
"It's not so bad," Cal says automatically, then considers. "Just maybe not for sitting still in." It's been colder most mornings lately when he's gone out to run, but after five minutes he doesn't even notice. Standing around is an entirely different story. He's glad enough to start walking briskly along the sidewalk next to Ianto.
Ianto chuckles. "You'll be plenty warm when we get there, I suspect.
"Let me tell you about this place: it's not exactly a tourist pub, and it's very proud, so it's likely there'll be a rugby match on the television and you will hear Welsh. Just cheer for the blokes in red and don't be surprised if you don't understand a word."
"Just like old times," he says. "I grew up in New York. Whether I was a Mets fan or a Yankees fan depended on which borough I was in and whose vote I needed. Truth is, I hate baseball. It's boring. I bet rugby's better." It cannot possibly be worse.
"It's a grand game. No calling on account of rain, either. I've promised my friend Justin he can watch me play sometime, though God knows when that'll be. I haven't had time for far too long.
"Just, rugby fans can get very passionate. Occasionally dangerously so."
"Ever see a Yankees/Red Sox game?" Cal asks. "The fans are fucking terrifying. There's some insane rivalry that's lasted like a zillion years and somebody's gonna get killed and eaten one of these days."
"You're not missing much," Cal tells him. "It's basically a million years of standing around and then someone swings a bat and misses. I haven't seen any fistfights, but I didn't go to very many games. Only when I had to." And he had, of course, been so high that he might not have noticed if someone had punched him, let alone someone else.
"I could stand something to eat before the tour," he says. Gloves on, he looks around. It is not his first visit to a different world (it is, technically, his third, if one counts the place his resurrection occurred; he would be quite surprised to learn that it's only his second different world), but he didn't exactly go touring Bela's world. Unless touring the world is the slang the kids are using these days for having sex in private box seating during an opera.
It is, however, his first real look at a foreign country. So he looks around with interest. He'd be happy with pretty much anything Ianto might suggest.
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"Sounds good," he says.
He could not repeat that restaurant name if he was paid to, but that will be a theme today, and he doesn't really care right now. Maybe he'll look into picking up some Welsh later.
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"We'll skip the garden today, I think. It's too cold." For the visitor, anyway. Ianto's used to sitting out and sipping a lager with numb fingertips.
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"Let me tell you about this place: it's not exactly a tourist pub, and it's very proud, so it's likely there'll be a rugby match on the television and you will hear Welsh. Just cheer for the blokes in red and don't be surprised if you don't understand a word."
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"Just like old times," he says. "I grew up in New York. Whether I was a Mets fan or a Yankees fan depended on which borough I was in and whose vote I needed. Truth is, I hate baseball. It's boring. I bet rugby's better." It cannot possibly be worse.
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"Just, rugby fans can get very passionate. Occasionally dangerously so."
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He nods up the street. "You can see the pub from here."
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