The alien butterfly flatly refused to shift. Clamped onto Ianto’s head firmly, yet painlessly, it seemed content to remain there permanently. Which was disconcerting, and a downright nuisance whenever the occasional shift of position caused its wings to cover his eyes. Catching sight of his reflection in one of the computer monitors, Ianto thought the damned thing resembled one of the fancy hats worn at Ascot on Ladies Day. It really didn’t suit him.
The others couldn’t look at him without giggling, and Jack seemed oddly envious.
On the other hand, all those legs gave a pretty good scalp massage.