IANTO
Ianto smiles in that half-genuine way known by those who have to accept condolences, and he does indeed take another generous sip of gin. ”James,” he says softly. ”To James.” May he be sucking Mort’s dick now, or whatever the hell the snake would find most fun and depraved. Is he alright, though? The fox shrugs. ”No, but I will be. I just... don’t really know what to do with myself now.”
He scoffs, waving off the caveat that his son hasn’t been properly born - because who the hell gets to decide that anyway - and sits back to listen as Remi continues. And he nibbles at his lower lip, glancing out into the sun and across the cliffs to the sea. ”...Or you could just have the Wishing Wagon,” he suggests suddenly. ”I don’t have much use for it any more. I’m barely a merchant. I live under a porch.” He scoffs. ”You’ve got a family to take care of. Have it, Remi.”
He scoffs, waving off the caveat that his son hasn’t been properly born - because who the hell gets to decide that anyway - and sits back to listen as Remi continues. And he nibbles at his lower lip, glancing out into the sun and across the cliffs to the sea. ”...Or you could just have the Wishing Wagon,” he suggests suddenly. ”I don’t have much use for it any more. I’m barely a merchant. I live under a porch.” He scoffs. ”You’ve got a family to take care of. Have it, Remi.”
where are your gods now
