Jack sat quietly, watching the temporarily de-aged five-year-old Ianto drawing.
Ianto was concentrating hard, tip of tongue poking out and a little frown drawing his eyebrows together. He looked adorable.
“What are you drawing, pet?” asked Gwen, “Is it a duck? Why is it purple?”
Little Ianto rolled his eyes and replied with exaggerated patience, as if he were the adult and she the child.
“Not a duck, a swan. See the long neck? And it’s purple ‘cause swans are white but so is paper; if I drew it white it wouldn’t show up.”
“Can’t fault that logic!”