[RP] Little angels hang above my head and read me like an open book...
[[Locked to no_daylight]]
Shortly after a rather disastrous conversation with J, and a somewhat less disastrous exchange on the journals with Winter, a freshly showered and shaven Ianto is at a Chicago hotel, looking for a certain Glaysa-Labolas demon.
He's wrapped in a coat which is carefully tailored so that the fact that it hangs nearly to the floor looks like a conscious fashion choice, and gives no hint as to the furry goat legs underneath (fucking Rift). He also has a large thermos full of amaretto-laced coffee, and an expression which suggests he's holding off sheer misery by force of will alone.
But then, he'll feel better soon. He knows that in much the same way he knows the sky is blue and water is wet, and while under other circumstances, he might question that certainty, good things have been coming seldom enough that he won't look too hard at this one.
Shortly after a rather disastrous conversation with J, and a somewhat less disastrous exchange on the journals with Winter, a freshly showered and shaven Ianto is at a Chicago hotel, looking for a certain Glaysa-Labolas demon.
He's wrapped in a coat which is carefully tailored so that the fact that it hangs nearly to the floor looks like a conscious fashion choice, and gives no hint as to the furry goat legs underneath (fucking Rift). He also has a large thermos full of amaretto-laced coffee, and an expression which suggests he's holding off sheer misery by force of will alone.
But then, he'll feel better soon. He knows that in much the same way he knows the sky is blue and water is wet, and while under other circumstances, he might question that certainty, good things have been coming seldom enough that he won't look too hard at this one.