"Jack. You look… different. Good different, I mean."
"So do you," Jack said, blatantly looking Ianto over. "Casual formal as opposed to business formal. Nice change."
"It is rather poor form to make fun of your date's attire," Ianto said, though he wouldn't have expected anything but Jack's unique sort of teasing.
"You know you're hot," Jack grinned. "I have an intimate, pre-theatre table booked mere steps from here…. Shall we, Mr. Jones?" Jack said, offering his arm.
"Debonair. Very nice," Ianto said, putting his hand on Jack's arm and stuffing his other hand in his pocket. It was a bit awkward being on the receiving side of gallantry, but Ianto couldn't deny that, coming from Jack Harkness, it was an intoxicating position to be in.
It was during the soup course that Ianto finally figured out what it was that looked different about Jack. "You're not wearing your strap," he said with a slight frown.
"No, not tonight," Jack said with a nonchalant shrug.
"I've never seen you without. Is it safe to leave it?"
"It's safe. Locked up. Even you don't know the code," Jack smirked.
"81983?"
"Nice try."
"That's not really what I meant, though. Is it safe for you to be without it?"
"It's not keeping me alive, if that's what you mean. Besides, it's not quite opera attire."
Ianto gave him a look and Jack reached across the table for his hand.
"I just don't want any interruptions tonight. My phone's off too. Tonight is just us."
"Just us, Verdi, 1500 Cenedlaethol Cymru patrons, and 1 weevil called Janet 50 feet under us," Ianto smirked.
"And we're the only ones that know," Jack grinned.
"Complete magic."
"I'm thinking it's going to get a lot more magical later."
"Or more real than anything," Ianto countered.
"I like the way you think, Mr. Jones."