"Depends which planet you're planning on sending flowers from and the species." He'd still got some very vivid memories of the nightseyes from Galbeldin Minor, and he wasn't looking to relive those, more so not with Brant.
He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, glanced at Jack's posture, and thought hard. "If you're early twentieth and sleeping with Ianto Jones, I need to know about that for definite. How early twentieth?"