Double Drabble: Consistent
May. 10th, 2025 05:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badly_knittedTitle: Consistent
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Ianto, OMC.
Rating: PG
Written For: Challenge 864: Measure at
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torchwood100.Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto makes a visit to his tailor.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Ianto stood straight and tall as his tailor took measurements for a couple of new suits, jotting everything down on his notepad in neat, precise letters. He was a tailor of the old school, a man who preferred doing everything the old-fashioned way, which was why Ianto went to him instead of someone who did everything with computers and machines.
“Exactly the same measurements as last time, Mr Jones,” Morys Llewellyn said with satisfaction. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me your secret.”
“It’s no secret.” Ianto smiled at the older man. “I just do my best to be consistent when it comes to diet and exercise, and drink in moderation.”
“An admirable attitude.” Morys nodded approvingly. “Most young men these days seem to exist on beer and pizza, consumed while sitting on the sofa, playing computer games.”
Ianto knew Morys was mostly speaking of his son, a year or two younger than Ianto, who, to his father’s disappointment, had no interest in tailoring, suits, or work of any description.
“Times have changed since you were your father’s apprentice.”
“Indeed they have, and not for the better.” Morys smiled ruefully. “Without your custom, I’d be out of business.”
The End
“Exactly the same measurements as last time, Mr Jones,” Morys Llewellyn said with satisfaction. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me your secret.”
“It’s no secret.” Ianto smiled at the older man. “I just do my best to be consistent when it comes to diet and exercise, and drink in moderation.”
“An admirable attitude.” Morys nodded approvingly. “Most young men these days seem to exist on beer and pizza, consumed while sitting on the sofa, playing computer games.”
Ianto knew Morys was mostly speaking of his son, a year or two younger than Ianto, who, to his father’s disappointment, had no interest in tailoring, suits, or work of any description.
“Times have changed since you were your father’s apprentice.”
“Indeed they have, and not for the better.” Morys smiled ruefully. “Without your custom, I’d be out of business.”
The End
