He is indiscriminately polite to alien and chimaera alike. It's his thing. Ianto shrugs and crosses his legs to sit, feeling Myfanwy coil tighter around his arm, one part amused and one part offended. Naturally he'd hoped for a towering red dragon stomping around the dreamscape, setting fire to the palm trees. "I've never been much for theme nights. Not here, anyway." Remember the old days? Good times. "I'm ace at word games," he warns. "Don't think it'd be fair."
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