Mooching around Ianto’s bedroom while Ianto was making the bed, Jack picked up a rather tattered something he hadn’t previously noticed.
“What on earth is this?”
“That,” Ianto said with indignant emphasis, snatching the object in question from Jack’s hands, “is my teddy bear, Fred. I’ve had him since I was a baby.”
“You still keep your teddy?”
“Of course. He has great sentimental value.”
“21st century humans, getting sentimental over inanimate objects.”
“This from the man who keeps a bottled hand on a shelf and talks to it when he thinks no one can hear.”