IANTO
Ianto snorts and shrugs, as if only half remembering the story himself. ”I’ve no idea. All I remember is the fox promising not to eat the gingerbread man, but swimming deeper and deeper until the cookie had to climb on his nose. Then the fox ate it. Good story.” He sniggers; of course he wasn’t the type to remember the whole tale, just the part with the food.
He looks Remi up and down as well, as if to accuse him of the same not-being-human, only to flash a crooked smile in his direction, giving a roguish bow. ”Are you sure? We both know your track record with memories,” he says jokingly, his gaze softening somewhat as the Alchemist continues. Reaching out, the fox swipes the pipe from his lips.
”You should find the piece of yourself who could make really good wine,” he suggests (duh). ”That would be a good start. And maybe the part who could laugh at things.”
He looks Remi up and down as well, as if to accuse him of the same not-being-human, only to flash a crooked smile in his direction, giving a roguish bow. ”Are you sure? We both know your track record with memories,” he says jokingly, his gaze softening somewhat as the Alchemist continues. Reaching out, the fox swipes the pipe from his lips.
”You should find the piece of yourself who could make really good wine,” he suggests (duh). ”That would be a good start. And maybe the part who could laugh at things.”
i know places we can hide
