A different direction. John lowers the tablet and squints sideways at Ianto.

"I was avoiding the Taliban," he protests, but really it's not the point. The point is he now has to keep Ianto safe. He shoots him a frown before beginning to move to a stairwell. "It's not like I'm doing this on purpose," he adds softly. "Do I look like I'm enjoying it?"

Mostly he looks wet, but an unhappy sort of wet. It's written into uneasy, uncomfortable lines of tension -- a frown that isn't especially deep but is still there to show concern. John remembers this city, and also remembers this storm. He remembers that it's dangerous. At least the radio message gave him a clue for how far along it should be.