Just Janto Quotes

Ianto shrugged. ‘Not really. Well, it is, kind of. I’ve been remembering working at a supermarket while I was at university. I can remember the prices of everything. From tinned peas to cereals. Every single brand. It’s not terribly helpful, but it’s allowed me to work out the true rate of inflation.’

Ianto stared at him, horrified. ‘Oh. I hope not. Am I? How can I tell?’

‘Wikipedia,’ Jack tutted. ‘Wikipedia.’

‘It’s just… Look, can we sort this out before I have to find out?’

‘Are you lactating?’ Jack wore an expression of dangerous interest.

‘I assure you, you would be the last person to know if I was.’ Ianto moved into a corner.

‘Is that what’s been different about the coffee?’ Jack laughed.

Ianto snapped the elastic band off of a new batch of leaflets about an organic jam activity centre. He pinged the band expertly at Jack’s ear. The Captain clapped his hands over the ear and gave Ianto a pout.

‘Would you like me to rub it better?’ Jack was always smooth.

Ianto glanced sharply at him. ‘Jack, it really itches. Maybe it’s this top. I swear it’s a poly-cotton mix, but the label says no. But then what kind of fool trusts a label? “Dry clean only”! I wasn’t born yesterday.’

‘You are such a princess.’

‘Well yes, obviously.’ Ianto was lost in thought.

‘No, Jack,’ sighed Ianto. ‘I’m really, really scared, and I don’t remember a thing about that ferry. If that’s not me, who is it?’

‘Ianto, relax.’ Jack’s voice was soothing. ‘Come on. Let’s talk about this. See what we can sort out.’

‘Really?’ said Jack. ‘I think she’d be quite upset.’

‘Hey!’ protested Ianto, tugging unhappily at the suddenly overlong sleeves of his jacket.

Jack pressed on.

‘Now, sit down. Ianto, drink some of your excellent coffee, and listen. I’ve got some news. News about what made you the man you are today.’

‘Oh, hi,’ said Ianto, awkwardly. He was wearing his favourite suit back from when he’d been a man. And carrying a tray of coffee. He tried out a brave smile. ‘Normal service has been resumed.’ He set down the tray with a bang and waited. His smile faded as his look at Jack became desperate.

‘Oh, Ianto,’ Jack got up and walked over to his friend, gripping him by the shoulders. ‘You look ridiculous in those clothes.’

Ianto shrugged. ‘What every girl wants to hear. I just felt like a change. Hoping it would jog my memory.’ He poured milk into Jack’s cup, stirred it and handed it to him. Jack took it, brushing his hand against Ianto’s. Ianto held it, but snatched his away when Gwen came in in a waft of pastry flakes.

This was his time, and he loved it. In his long lives, he’d only ever felt truly at home in Torchwood – the only place and time that suited him. All the noises comforted him – in an odd way, this creepy, dark place was his only friend. It let him think.

Jack carefully didn’t say anything. Ianto examined the intricate walnut inlay of the table surface.

‘My husband’s too pretty!’ she’d yelled. ‘You’ve got to do something, Jack!’ She caught the look in his eye. ‘Don’t you go sassing me, Harkness. I am deadly serious.’

‘Sass?’ tutted Jack in mock affront. ‘I don’t do sass, do I? I prefer to think of it as kittenish charm. What do you think, Ianto?’

‘Definitely kittenish,’ said Ianto.

‘Sod the kittens,’ Gwen was in full flow. ‘Rhys woke up bloody gorgeous this morning, and I want to find the woman who’s done that to him.’

Jack held up his Torchwood ID. The traffic warden shook his head.

Jack looked back, placatingly, and started fishing around in his pockets. ‘Honestly, we save this city from alien disaster several times a year, and they still make us adhere to parking regulations. Do you know who really developed the internal combustion engine? Torchwood did. And this is the thanks we get. Well, that and one-way systems – the product of a tiny mind.’ Jack pouted, looking for all the world like a spoiled child. It was at moments like this, those rare moments when little things didn’t go Jack’s way, that Gwen saw the true hero. A man not frightened by vast evil, corrupt states or lost souls, but baffled by pettiness, bureaucracy and muddling mediocrity. Why he had sentenced himself to Wales, she would never really understand.

‘Ianto, hun, could you go and feed the meter? Quickly.’

‘Sure,’ said Ianto, and hefted something onto his lap the size of a labrador with handles. It appeared to be the world’s largest handbag. He dived into it muttering, ‘I’m sure I’ve got a purse in here somewhere.’

Gwen stifled a laugh. ‘Oh, no one needs a bag that large!’

Ianto looked up, puzzled. ‘But, I needed something big enough for my gun. And my house keys, and my MP3, and the phone, the PDA, the chargers, and a copy of Captain Corelli. Honestly, by the time you slip in some mints and a spare pair of tights, it’s full house, I can tell you.’

‘Yeah. Better. She’s grown up well.’

‘Yeah – but… she’s not… jaw-dropping. She either’s really made an effort for speed-dating, or something… different’s going on here. I mean look – here she is last night.’

They looked. They saw what she meant.

‘It’s not like she’s had work done, it’s just like she’s… better.’

‘Emma 2.0,’ said Ianto.

Jack nodded. ‘Now she’s… stunning. She’s perfect.’

Perfect. They both looked at Ianto.

He coughed. ‘I’ll go and make some more coffee, shall I?’

Two sets of eyes watched him go.

‘I think it’s sweet,’ put in Ianto.

‘We learned a lot. I think. I had a hunch about one of the women there. It turns out she’s one of the women missing from Tombola’s. And that’s not all.’

Jack looked at the screens, filled with pictures of Emma Webster. ‘Her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Quite the babe. I would. I definitely would. Wouldn’t you, Ianto?’

‘If you promised not to film it, Jack, then yes.’

My eyes, thought Gwen.

Ianto smiled. ‘Taking your husband speed-dating is so modern.’

‘Yeah. He turned out to be quite useful, actually. More useful than Jack would have been.’

‘I’m always useful!’ Jack strode in from nowhere, flinging his coat onto the sofa. He adopted his big beam. ‘Twenty strangers, some alcohol, and a chance to make small talk? Thirty minutes and we’d all have been in a big naked heap.’

‘Exactly,’ said Gwen. ‘Lovely fun for you, I’m sure, Jack, but we wouldn’t have learnt anything.’

Ianto looked a bit blank. ‘Like what?’ He glanced down.

‘Oh this? Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just something I found in the Archive. Turns out there’s tonnes down there. Sometimes it’s nice to wear really good clothes. I’ve always felt comfortable in smart clothes – you know how it is, stick with what makes you feel comfy.’ He glanced at Gwen, and smiled.

Gwen felt herself curling up. Especially when she realised there were still bits of lasagne stuck to her T-shirt.

‘Yeah,’ she said slowly.

Ianto stepped forward and settled the cup down. ‘Truthfully, I didn’t feel much like going to sleep. I’ve not been sleeping well. Nothing really planned. Did a bit of tidying in the vaults.’

‘No Jack?’

Ianto shrugged. ‘Still out trying to track down the cause of his static cloud. You know how he is.’