Ianto Jones, pan-dimensional bar of your choice

[mm_lucyjane]

Ianto is slowly getting used to the notion that the Rift--he assumes it's the Rift, he doesn't know what else it could be--likes to pluck him out of a normal workday and deposit him here.

The lager is good, the sandwiches are fresh and there's no Weevils to worry about.

Could be much worse.

Comments

[refused_gift]

There's a man at the end of the bar with a pot of hot tea and a plate of cheese toasties. He's young and of Indian heritage, and wearing a suit that would have been the hight of fashion in London during the 1920s.

[mm_lucyjane]

Ianto is not going to judge on dandyism. He's rather a fashion plate, himself.

"Hullo. Nice day," he remarks.

[refused_gift]

"Yes, it's lovely, no one can chase me with paperwork here."

He smiles warmly and extends a hand.

"I'm David Talbot."

[mm_lucyjane]

"Ianto Jones," he says with a hearty handshake. "Admin work, then?"

[mm_danii]

The man who stumbles in a few minutes later doesn't look nearly so happy to be there. As a matter of fact, dressed up in the black tux and tails as he is, with his hat in one hand and a 'wand' in the other, he looks rather disturbed.

Then he winces.

"Oh for Christ's sake..."

[mm_lucyjane]

"Never seen him around," Ianto remarks from his barstool. "But I wouldn't be surprised if I did."

[mm_danii]

He rolls his eyes and avoids the other man's with a weak, irritated laugh.

"Funny."

He scrubs at his face and heads for the bar.

"I hope you have a day job."

[mm_lucyjane]

"And a lovely day job it is, too. Are you in need of assistance? Or just a stiff drink?"