“Eh—I’m a bit twitchy about storms.” Ianto replies with a shrug, catching his breath. “Severe weather in general.”

And as angry, as cold, as shiftless and out of control as he is…the memories still painting his psyche in shades of light and stability make him ache a little, seeing this bloke he’s barely spoken to and known for years.

That ache makes him smile, and it’s the first one in days that shows in his angry, exhausted blue eyes.

“Yer mam’s handbag still packs a bigger wallop than these wankers, I say. Fancy helpin’ me smash a few?”