"Laios, huh? Well, far be it from me to resist meeting someone who can cook. Seems I have a bit of a soft spot for the domestic sort." Jack admits--and for a second, just a second, he can't quite breathe right around the knot in his chest.

It's been nearly a year since he's been able to lower his arms, much less move around or have coffee, but he can just about taste the full bodied earthiness of a fresh cup on the back of his tongue.

Somewhere in all the violence and the chaos and the strangeness of their lives, the taste of a good cup of coffee had become the taste of home.

"I know a man who can make a cup of coffee that's so good, you need a cigarette afterwards." he explains. "If he were here, I'd have to hit him up for one to go with this casserole."

He pauses, taking another bite of food.

"I think you'd like Ianto."