Notes: Written for Torchwood100. Prompt #229-Honey.
Unbeta'd. Comments and concrit welcome.
Summary: Valentine's Day, 1941.
You’re perfection goodness knows.
He could have given her almost anything.
Between Jack’s money and contacts, wartime rationing meant nothing to him. He was learning to be careful though. He still dreamt of Angelo and desperately wanted to avoid making the same mistakes with Estelle.
No expensive chocolates or silk stockings or even his prized bottle of Château de Montvillargenne. That would have to wait for the Doctor.
All he could do was keep her dancing past curfew while crooning a slightly filthy Fats Waller lyric in her ear, and hope it was enough.
You’re my Honeysuckle rose