dark that follows [ open to youwiththeears ]

[coffee_cult]

Predictably of someone who spares little time for it, Ianto is asleep at this unexpected hour. Not tucked neatly into bed, but at his desk, precariously balanced near the edge of the chair, his head pillowed on folded arms. There's a half-drunk cup of coffee - vain final attempt at fighting fatigue - to his left, a stack of reports to his right,

Comments

[youwiththeears]

He's found the offices. Ears went looking for them after Jack came back, his mood so much lighter, and... It was good, seeing Jack smiling like that. Very good. But worry lingers. And so he went looking for the Director. Wandering off in Torchwood alone until he finds him.

He knocks on the half-open door of the office with a self-abasing smile, free hand in the pocket of his jacket, recovered from the Cardiff House. Hidden there, his fingers are wrapped around the hologram Jack left him, so very long ago. "Ianto Jones, yes?"

[coffee_cult]

The knock on the door stirs Ianto from whatever reverie he's been lost in, and he shifts to the face the doorway, trying to look more composed than he feels. Easier said than done, being that he's missing his jacket, tie, and his sleeves are rolled up ... the end result being that he just looks rumpled, in a way that he rarely ever does (or has, since the year that never was).

He's more than a little surprised to find the lanky Gallifreyan standing there, and he sets the glass of water down, clearing his throat. "Yes. Ears, isn't it?" He's running a two-to-one ratio on bad-to-good interaction with Jack's other lovers, and can't help but wonder how this one's going to go.

[youwiththeears]

Ears always looks rumpled, so he's hardly one to notice. His entire wardrobe comes second-hand from either Jack or the Nexus laundry room, all of which manage to somehow be too large on him. "Right, that's me. I'm here with Jack." Just to be absolutely certain Ianto knows.

[coffee_cult]

Coming back to himself just a bit, Ianto walks back around his desk and settles back into his chair. He takes the glass of water along, and sets about sorting through his desk drawer for the painkillers he nicked from Owen. "Ah, yes." He didn't know, but he isn't particularly surprised. Jack seems to take an entourage wherever he goes.

It's all right. The four paracetamol will take care of his headache in a moment. "Come in, have a seat. May I help you with something?" Well, it is his office ... the man might be here on business from Jack or the Doctor or ... one of the various Time Lordly sorts rambling about his basement.