The bad guys had got the jump on them; now Jack and Ianto were in a pitch-dark cellar, handcuffed together around a very solid metal bar. Jack tried, but couldn’t pull it free from its moorings.
“Normally, being handcuffed to you would be the highlight of my day,” he commented, “but this isn’t anywhere near as much fun as it should be.”
Ianto remained silent. Jack could feel the cuffs tugging slightly; his lover was doing something. Suddenly there was a click and the cuffs fell away.
“How’d you do that?”
“You carry a hairgrip around?”
“They’re surprisingly useful.”