Ianto always enjoyed working in the Tourist Information Office. He didn't get to play his alter-ego as often as he'd have liked, but it made a nice change from the day job. He had his regulars of course. One, a little old lady called Emily, always came in to pass the time of day with "that nice young boy". She usually asked Ianto if there were any events coming up, mostly so she could avoid them, and they always talked a little about the weather. "It's been chilly this week, hasn't it? You'd never believe all that rubbish about Global Warming would you?" Occasionally their conversation would stray into dangerous territory. "Did you hear about those missing sheep again in Abergavenny? Some claim it was a pterodactyl but I don't believe that nonsense. Probably some kids stealing their roast dinner."
Ianto relished the opportunity to have normal conversations with people. Torchwood was brilliant, well more than brilliant, but it did have its downsides. Aliens, for instance, were a normal topic of discussion. Death was accepted. Common laws were overlooked. The real world disappeared the moment Ianto stepped foot in the Hub. But this side of those doors he was safe. This side was filled with paperwork, posters and maps. It was normal. Or "boring" as Owen frequently stated. But Ianto didn't care. It was his sanctuary and he loved it.