Ianto
”How in the...” Ianto’s expression was utterly perplexed as he examined the mess he had made of his part of the work, the fox rubbing at the back of his head with fingers chafed by the cold. Glancing up at Nephele’s approach, he nodded and let out a soft snort. ”Don’t say that, the weeds might hear you,” he cautioned her, redoubling his efforts with the tools. Hopefully with the extra help they could make a difference to the place before Alina took his head off.
Ianto keeps trying to weed, which might well cause his doom.
Ianto keeps trying to weed, which might well cause his doom.
