"Fairies," Ianto repeats, wishing John hadn't mentioned the creatures, his eyes darting around the area uncertainly. There can't be any fairies living here, can there? No, they're native to Earth, been there since the dawn of time, and with any luck they probably died with the planet too. Still, it has him thinking about more than he'd like and as John pauses them at the base of the tree he recalls a poem they'd dug up during that investigation, a piece of which he mumbles aloud.

"Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild,
With a faery, hand in hand..."

Glancing aside at the other man, he studies him for a long moment, cocking his head to the side as if it will help him concentrate (it doesn't).

"Better not let go of me, then," he concludes. "Just in case. No wandering off the path after the pretty lights. Next thing you know we'll be... Sinking in a bog or something, I don't know. Growing extra heads." The sky is the limit, okay.