(Untitled)

[likesthecoat]

Ianto is on the sofa by the fireplace, his feet propped up on an ottoman and his coat and jacket draped over the arm. He's writing in his diary.

There is, of course, coffee.

Comments

[isaysimplewords]

You know those guys who, despite repeated demonstrations of how the laws of physics govern a situation when a person holding a drink is jostled, just don't get it? And they will drop right onto the couch next to you anyway, somehow succeeding in keeping their own drinks unspilled?

Sometimes Cal is one of those guys. Let's hope Ianto's coffee isn't doing any precarious perching.

"Hey, Ianto."

[likesthecoat]

Ianto catches his coffee cup before it spills all over his stomach. "Hey, Cal."

[isaysimplewords]

"Whoops. Nice catch." Cal sips his own coffee. "How've you been?"

He has a general idea of what the answer might be, but he wants to hear it anyway.

[likesthecoat]

"Thank you. Reflexes of a cat, me."

He has a sip. "I broke up with John."