“Well I like it!” Jack said firmly. “It’s all soft and fuzzy.”
Owen, who’d just walked into the Hub’s kitchen area, turned around to leave again. He didn’t know what Jack and Ianto were talking about, and from what he’d heard so far, he didn’t WANT to know.
“It’s ugly. What is it with you and fuzzy things anyway? Last week, when we went to that seventies costume party and Rhi wore that velvet jacket, you spent the whole evening trying to stroke her. If it had been anyone else you would’ve ended up in big trouble! Good thing Johnny thought it was funny.”
Rhi had eventually taken the jacket off, and Jack had swooped in to claim it, even though it never would have fitted him. He’d wandered around with it in his arms for the rest of the night, stroking it like it was a puppy.
“I like fuzzy things, what’s wrong with that? You’ve got a teddy bear.”
That stopped Owen in his tracks; Ianto had a teddy bear? At his age?
“Leave Fred out of this; he’s not the issue.”
“What is then?”
“Your unaccountable attraction to that new alien we found last night.”
Owen wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed to discover they were just talking about another alien. No, check that, definitely relieved.
“What’s wrong with it? Aside from the fact that you think it’s ugly. For all you know, among its kind it could be considered outstandingly beautiful.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“You’re jealous because I’m paying attention to it. Admit it.”
“I’m not jealous! It’s not even sentient; you said that yourself.”
“That doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be shown kindness and compassion. The poor thing’s lost, sad, and lonely.”
“I don’t see you showing kindness and compassion to the spider mice. They’re fuzzy too.”
Jack shuddered theatrically. “They’ve got eight legs and eight horrible skittering little feet!”
“And fur, and tails, and whiskers, just like your new friend.”
“My new friend, as you so quaintly call it, doesn’t have eight legs.”
“No, it just has ten fuzzy tentacles, a long tail, and four eyes on stalks. It looks like a cross between an octopus and a deflated set of bagpipes. Actually, now I think about it, even the sound it makes when you pet it is a lot like a deflated set of bagpipes.”
“I prefer to think of it as musical purring.”
“Except there’s nothing musical about it. I’ve heard more tuneful whoopee cushions.”
“You know, you’re usually a lot nicer about the alien creatures that come through the Rift. You even look after Yuk without complaint. I don’t know what’s got you so bent out of shape over this one,” Jack grumbled.
“You don’t? How about the fact that you insisted it share our bed last night so it wouldn’t be lonely? Every time either of us moved it let out another one of those awful noises! I didn’t get a wink of sleep!”