The Bear and Barnacle

Some people might not think of interrupting someone's coffee as coitus interruptus. They're the people who drink scalded coffees from coffee chains, or guzzle down instant brews just for the caffeine buzz, or maybe even grind their own coffee at home— but they aren't drinking Ianto Jones Coffee. And when someone, Jack for instance, is busily enjoying a mug of it, just about moaning over the perfection, he is really looking to enjoy it to completion.

What he definitely isn't looking for is someone at the door before he can reach a nice coffee-drinking peak. It interrupts the wonder of the coffee, and so when he goes to the door, he's very displeased indeed at the... coffee-us interruptus. Whatever. It's displeasing, whatever it's called. "What do you want?"

He's sitting on the floor of his dingy little flat, in front of the tiny television, bowl of some sort of riducolously sugary cereal in hand. He lifts another spoonful, chewing messily, as he chuckles at the screen. Milk is dribbled slightly down the front of the purple t-shirt he is wearing as the spoon jiggles when he laughs.

His head suddenly perks up as he hears the sound of someone on the stairs up to the flat. He lowers the bowl slowly, eyes narrowing in the direction of the door. A moment later, a knock is heard.

Growling, he stands, putting his hand around the knife in the pocket of his pajama pants, as his bare feet shuffle him closer to the door. He flings the door open. "You're interuppting my morning cartoons...really not smart."

Q was in the kitchen cooking breakfast when a knock at the door startled him. Looking mournfully at the yolk oozing out of what was going to be a sunny-side-up egg, he sighed. "Guess it's scrambled eggs for me." He went to the door, singing:

Someones knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Someones knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Do me a favor,
Open the door and let 'em in.

Suiting action to lyrics, he swung the door open.