"I can't live like this, Jack," Ianto moaned, wearing an expression of pure misery.
It was a little melodramatic in Jack's opinion, and that was exactly what worried him. Ianto Jones was the antithesis of melodrama. Which, when Jack thought of it, was probably exactly why he l-… er, liked Ianto so well.
"It's just going to be a few days," Jack said, placating.
"Yeah, a few days of sheer hell. You don't know what this is like for me! You're fine, it didn't affect you. You can still get up and go about the day and think clearly and function normally. But me, I'm sat here like a stupid slug all day!"
"You're not stupid. And you're not a slug. Though, you would be a pretty adorable slug, were you one. I can just see you with those antenna-eyes they have. Did you see that cartoon film with the slugs…?"
What looked back at him was a vaguely murderous, if generally… sluggish Ianto. "Can't you do something? Can't Owen do something?" Ianto whinged, not caring that he sounded like a 10-year-old.
"Nothing we can do, Ianto," Jack shrugged apologetically. "Just has to run its course."
"Can't you just… I don't know, put me under, cryo me for a couple days? Anything, just so I don't have to go through this!"
Jack rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Ianto."
"But I'm not me, Jack! I can't operate under these conditions."
"I can tell that," Jack muttered. "Look, go on home for the rest of the day. Get some rest, zone out in front of the TV, whatever."
Ianto looked like he was deeply put out but could barely work up the energy to pout properly. "Not fair," he grumbled, wandering out of Jack's office. "They're supposed to just eat us or vaporize us, everybody knows that. What kind of stupid, bloody alien makes a person allergic to caffeine?"