Ianto can't help it: he's a tad uncomfortable. This...it's not like shoehorning his way into Torchwood Three. It felt more like every other job he'd ever had: the coffee shop, the Cardiff Museum, even his bloody hire at Canary Wharf.
God, what he wouldn't give for a proper suit. As it stands, he's used half his stipend on a simple, but at least slightly more professional looking suit of clothes in new shoes, trousers, a simple Oxford-adjacent shirt and a plain, but not terribly ill-fitting waistcoat.
So, barely dressed for the job he wants, hopeful but realistic, Ianto sticks his head into the door of the Greymare Public Library, where he was hoping to find the woman in charge, and after looking around with some interest, approaches someone who looks like they might be able to point him in the right direction.
It's not Torchwood--but bloody hell does it make him homesick as all get out. And Ianto could almost laugh at the very idea of being homesick for Cardiff if he wasn't quite possibly dead back home...if Jack wasn't quite possibly dead back home.
So he spots someone, approaches them, and speaks softly as he smooths a hand over his waistcoat.
"Hello, yes--apologies, Ianto Jones. I was wondering if I might find a Miss Dahlia Leeds here by chance? I'm inquiring about possible opportunities within the Historical Society."
Inquiring Within | Greymare Library, Mid-June
Ianto can't help it: he's a tad uncomfortable. This...it's not like shoehorning his way into Torchwood Three. It felt more like every other job he'd ever had: the coffee shop, the Cardiff Museum, even his bloody hire at Canary Wharf.
God, what he wouldn't give for a proper suit. As it stands, he's used half his stipend on a simple, but at least slightly more professional looking suit of clothes in new shoes, trousers, a simple Oxford-adjacent shirt and a plain, but not terribly ill-fitting waistcoat.
So, barely dressed for the job he wants, hopeful but realistic, Ianto sticks his head into the door of the Greymare Public Library, where he was hoping to find the woman in charge, and after looking around with some interest, approaches someone who looks like they might be able to point him in the right direction.
It's not Torchwood--but bloody hell does it make him homesick as all get out. And Ianto could almost laugh at the very idea of being homesick for Cardiff if he wasn't quite possibly dead back home...if Jack wasn't quite possibly dead back home.
So he spots someone, approaches them, and speaks softly as he smooths a hand over his waistcoat.
"Hello, yes--apologies, Ianto Jones. I was wondering if I might find a Miss Dahlia Leeds here by chance? I'm inquiring about possible opportunities within the Historical Society."