The milk frothed into the steel jug. Ianto jiggled it about, keeping the milk moving to get a smooth consistency. When it had reached the perfect temperature he poured it carefully over the freshly ground coffee beans releasing the smell of nuts and a hint of chocolate.
He set the milk jug down next to the tray and went to lift it but his hands wouldn't work.
His shoulders began to shudder and shake. Hot, stinging tears fell into the hot liquid so carefully prepared. He snatched up two of the mugs and savagely tossed their contents into the nearby sink. He hastily whipped his eyes on the back of his sleeve and rubbed his cheeks dry with his fingers.
He carefully lifted the tray, took a moment to steady himself and fixed a smile as he left the kitchenette.
"Coffee's in!" He called cheerfully to what was left of Torchwood.
But he was getting better. It had been a week since he last made coffee for five.