IANTO
"You're dripping all over my damned floor," Ianto snipped, grabbing a towel from one of the drawers and tossing it across to the other man like it was obvious. "Wearing a fishing net, might I add." And yet, rather than going for anything Stonesong or water related, Ianto found himself face to face with a cloud-cage fighting, prophesizing, dragon conversationalist.
Appreciating the story intensely, he nonetheless puffed deeply on his pipe and blew a couple of large, lazy smoke rings into the air. Leaning through the haze as if caught hook, line and sinker, he raised his eyebrows in awe at the other man. And blinked, his eyes shifting from blue to the amber of a fox.
"I don't think so no," he snickered. "Listen, your story's good enough payment for you to stay until the rain stops. Now dry off while I make tea." First, though, he slipped a matchbox out of his pocket, striking one and offering it out to light the stranger's soggy cigarette.
Appreciating the story intensely, he nonetheless puffed deeply on his pipe and blew a couple of large, lazy smoke rings into the air. Leaning through the haze as if caught hook, line and sinker, he raised his eyebrows in awe at the other man. And blinked, his eyes shifting from blue to the amber of a fox.
"I don't think so no," he snickered. "Listen, your story's good enough payment for you to stay until the rain stops. Now dry off while I make tea." First, though, he slipped a matchbox out of his pocket, striking one and offering it out to light the stranger's soggy cigarette.
where are your gods now
