"You sound slightly afraid, Jack," Emerson said with a laugh. Somehow, he could picture it. Ianto giving Jack hell for not cleaning, and then whatever would ensue after that. It was an entertaining portrait in a world like Crescent Hills.
He went on to talk about someone named John. Ah, the drinking stories had started, hadn't they? Emerson hoped he wouldn't get drunk enough to tell any. Most of his were either painfully embarrassing or morbidly depressing. He held out his glass to Jack. "That sounds like a drinking story to me. Fill 'er up and continue."