(Untitled)

[mrmoneypenny]

Let it be known that the Narration is run by a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad person who never lets Villiers play in Milliways much recently

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[likesthecoat]

A pair of hands grasp his shoulders and a Welsh-accented voice says into his ear, "Well, hello, stranger."

[mrmoneypenny]

With a start, Villiers realizes he recognizes that voice.

And, somewhere deep in his brain, he probably recognizes those hands as well. Good memories. Very good memories.

As his brandy appears, he ignores it in favour of his lovely Welsh company, offering a smile. "Well, if it isn't Ianto. Ianto...Jones, was it?"

Of course, he remembers. Encyclopaedic knowledge, this one has. But, still.

[likesthecoat]

"Yes," Ianto says and leans on the bar. "That's me.

"Have you been away long?"

[mrmoneypenny]

"A while, yes." There's a moment where he looks up, thinking back. "A few weeks, at least, for me -- and I've no idea how my world matches up with Bar-time, if it even does."

And, of course, he does know how long he's been gone. Thirty-two days, give or take a few hours. Thirty-two days of unwarranted amounts of stress, worse than the past year in total.

Brandy reached for, sipped from, set down. "And you?"