He feels his own wash of relief as Ianto's bandit finally drops, but John still has his own problem. He spins the bandit latched onto him, ripping out the dagger with a wince and glancing down at his arm. The jacket is dark, but he can feel blood seeping through.

"Ianto?"

He's still under the carriage, as far as John can tell. Is he hurt? The bandit regroups and lurches at John again, and he counters one handed with the dagger -- grits his teeth as he tries to shut out the pain and keep moving.

"If you're not dead this would be a great time to help."