(no subject)
Who: Ianto Jones and Open to any
Where: Library
When: Anytime after noon
What: Passing the time
Solitude. He was currently surrounded by it. Cocooned by it. Soothed by it. At least for the last hour he'd spent in the quiet library, nothing had turned up to surprise him. It meant he could focus more on the books which his eyes were trailing with a level of concentration that belied the reason he was really in there.
He knew of at least two thousand languages, but 'monotony' was a word that had not existed in his own personal vocabulary until now. The room here with its walls and shelves filled with the promise of escapism had become his most favoured room, aside from the theatre (and even that had lost some of its gleam after one terrible weekend when it refused to play anything but Meg Ryan marathons.)
Ianto wasn't sure how much time passed, whether it was just a few minutes or an hour, but he lost track of it as his mind blocked out everything but the deliberation of how many books he could reasonably carry to his room in one go without tripping up and breaking his neck. It passed away the time nicely.
Where: Library
When: Anytime after noon
What: Passing the time
Solitude. He was currently surrounded by it. Cocooned by it. Soothed by it. At least for the last hour he'd spent in the quiet library, nothing had turned up to surprise him. It meant he could focus more on the books which his eyes were trailing with a level of concentration that belied the reason he was really in there.
He knew of at least two thousand languages, but 'monotony' was a word that had not existed in his own personal vocabulary until now. The room here with its walls and shelves filled with the promise of escapism had become his most favoured room, aside from the theatre (and even that had lost some of its gleam after one terrible weekend when it refused to play anything but Meg Ryan marathons.)
Ianto wasn't sure how much time passed, whether it was just a few minutes or an hour, but he lost track of it as his mind blocked out everything but the deliberation of how many books he could reasonably carry to his room in one go without tripping up and breaking his neck. It passed away the time nicely.