“Even by Torchwood standards that’s weird,” Owen muttered.
Owen almost jumped out of his skin, not having heard Ianto come up behind him. He gave Ianto a token glare, then pointed.
“Myfanwy and Nosy playing together! Since when did the bald budgie and the feather duster become friends?”
Ianto watched as with a flick of its head, Nosy tossed a frisbee across the Hub, Myfanwy diving to catch it, then swooping to drop it in front of Nosy again.
“Nosy likes playing and Myf likes catching things; friendships have been built on less.”
Owen grinned at Ianto. “True.”