it's not what it looks like
They stare at each other for a long few moments without saying anything - without the other man responding to his greeting, with... nothing happening, in fact. Ianto's grip on the staff and the whittling instrument grow just a touch tighter, the fox hoping that he doesn't have to use either of the makeshift weapons. Because that would just be peachy, wouldn't it? Then finally the silence is broken, and if it weren't for Oliver's point - I was hoping to offer you a deal - he'd have been particularly horrified to be recognised.
Instead, a slow smile tugs at the corners of his lips, his tail swishing once more as his nerves ease. "What kind of deal?" he asks. "What's in it for me, and what am I doing for you?" His accent hugs the words, making them sound more musical in the quiet of the glade. "And where have you come from, to find me?" More to the point - did anyone send you?
Instead, a slow smile tugs at the corners of his lips, his tail swishing once more as his nerves ease. "What kind of deal?" he asks. "What's in it for me, and what am I doing for you?" His accent hugs the words, making them sound more musical in the quiet of the glade. "And where have you come from, to find me?" More to the point - did anyone send you?
