it's not what it looks like
"No need to apologise," Ianto murmured, waving it off and running an absent finger around the rim of his teacup. "It was a terrible thing, to happen to you. Would that I could do something to make it better, at all." He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. Ultimately, though, he could not. Memories were beyond even that of his godmother, for all of the power she wielded (or at least, the power Ianto assumed and believed she did). Cupping his chin in his hand, he sighed and gazed across the table at his friend.
"I am not one to judge cowardice," he said, snorting softly. "I run the moment things get tough, I'm not afraid to admit it. If you tire of the story, then my door is always open. I'm not sure my story is any better, though. And war may come, whether or not you wish it." Such was the nature of things.
"I am not one to judge cowardice," he said, snorting softly. "I run the moment things get tough, I'm not afraid to admit it. If you tire of the story, then my door is always open. I'm not sure my story is any better, though. And war may come, whether or not you wish it." Such was the nature of things.
