"Ohhhh….."
"Put it down."
"But…."
"No."
"What about…."
"I'd rather shove a hot poker in my eye."
"I don't see what's wrong with it."
"That's the problem."
Ianto Jones had had enough. He was the only one who ever sat shift in the Tourist Office, so his was the only opinion that mattered when it came to decorating the place for the holidays. He had no clue why Jack and Gwen had insisted upon joining him in his hunt for tasteful, festive swag or why Gwen had dragged her poor husband, Rhys, along.
Actually, of the three of them, Rhys was probably the best shopping companion. He didn't wander, grab things (or people) and his taste wasn't awful. Jack and Gwen, despite being skilled and brave members of Torchwood, were the sort who should not be let loose in the shops. They were like Chihuahuas strung out on a crack/meth cocktail with the decorative aesthetic of blind rabid tarsus monkeys.
Heaving a sigh, Ianto watched as Gwen picked up some multi armed, silver, sparkly thing Ianto couldn't even identify. Jack was nodding in approval.
"You know, Gwen let me furnish our apartment for just this reason," Rhys pointed out, making Ianto smile. Then he continued, "I thought Jack had good taste. He dresses well."
Ianto snorted. "Because I burned the more hideous pieces in his wardrobe."
Rhys blinked. "That's actually not a bad idea."
With a sage nod, Ianto sighed, "Come on, we'd better go collect them before they get us tossed from another shop."
"Whatever happened to the spirit of Father Christmas," Rhys laughed.
"Jack made a lewd comment to him in the first store," the archivist said. "Why do you think we were booted?"
"Honestly, I thought it had something to do with the giant candy canes and the suggestive hand gestures."
Ianto sighed again. "Tis the season."
"Ho-Ho-Ho!"
"Quite."