Mycroft takes in more than just Ianto's country of origin. Going by the suit and the way he holds himself, he looks rather like the sort of man who doesn't officially exist.
At least, his job doesn't. Which means Mycroft has a file on him somewhere, no doubt.
"Mycroft Holmes," he introduces. He declines the handshake and gestures for Ianto to take a seat instead.
He has no problem giving out his name to anybody. You won't even find a driving license with his name on anywhere.
"Something sweet to go with your tea?" offers the red-headed baker carrying the tray of... many many things...
Warm, fragrant cinnamon rolls roughly the size of human skulls; dense and moist chocolate cake as dark as sin; muffins of many kinds, and a number of other baked goods, all on the side of sinfully delicious with no redeeming social value.
Rae follows the belief that everyone deserves resolve-meltingly delicious food, but she can respect a man who serves good tea.
"I won't tell if you won't," she grins, even as she sees the red-edged shadows on his face flicker and shift.
This one keeps secrets, but they have nothing to do with her, so she can ignore them.
"What about a piece of Bitter Chocolate Death?" Rae smiles, holding up one of the small serving saucers with the deep, dark chocolate cake on it. "Flourless, so it's low on carbs, and it's bittersweet dark chocolate, so it's low on sugar - more of an intense flavor than a sweet one. Besides," she adds, "giving in to a little temptation now will keep it from becoming a bigger temptation later."
"It's quite all right," Mycroft assures. "My youngest is seven. And if my brother is anything to go by, it's not something they ever really grow out of."
He does seem to find the whole thing rather amusing, actually.
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"Vanilla oolong?" he guesses after a curious sniff.
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It's very convincing.
"Care for a cup?" he asks.
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If the vowels didn't give away his country of origin, the name surely does.
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At least, his job doesn't. Which means Mycroft has a file on him somewhere, no doubt.
"Mycroft Holmes," he introduces. He declines the handshake and gestures for Ianto to take a seat instead.
He has no problem giving out his name to anybody. You won't even find a driving license with his name on anywhere.
Reply
Warm, fragrant cinnamon rolls roughly the size of human skulls; dense and moist chocolate cake as dark as sin; muffins of many kinds, and a number of other baked goods, all on the side of sinfully delicious with no redeeming social value.
Rae follows the belief that everyone deserves resolve-meltingly delicious food, but she can respect a man who serves good tea.
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Just.
"I really shouldn't, my dear," he says. "It would play all sorts of havoc on my diet."
Says the rather rakish man.
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This one keeps secrets, but they have nothing to do with her, so she can ignore them.
"What about a piece of Bitter Chocolate Death?" Rae smiles, holding up one of the small serving saucers with the deep, dark chocolate cake on it. "Flourless, so it's low on carbs, and it's bittersweet dark chocolate, so it's low on sugar - more of an intense flavor than a sweet one. Besides," she adds, "giving in to a little temptation now will keep it from becoming a bigger temptation later."
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He says this jokingly, but with Mycroft, one can never be so certain.
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"Daddy?"
"Yes Fry?" Guppy follows him.
"Why do people run out of hair at the sides?" Fry asks.
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"So we have to spend less time in the mornings on making it look good."
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"Sorry." he crouches next to his son. "Fry, it's rude to make personal comments."
"What's personal comments?"
"Pointing out things about what people look like is a type of personal comment." Guppy says.
"So... when you said Mummy's t-shirt was nice you were rude?" Fry asks, giving him his best 'grown ups are insane' face.
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He does seem to find the whole thing rather amusing, actually.
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