Ianto may want to crawl under a rock and hide but John's chatter does help. Reluctantly, he uncurls himself, reaching for the water bottle John set by him before moving to sit up and taking a few tentative sips. Glancing around the room and trying to re-orient himself as he does. They'd made it to Khalo, at least. And managed to find a room before they'd crashed, well done on their part. There are two beds in the room, though Ianto vaguely remembers preferring to stick close and the thought of it heats his cheeks a little. He takes another sip of water.

“What time is it?” he asks at last. His voice rough with sleep as he tries to take stock of himself and their situation. How long had it been since they collapsed into bed together? It’s difficult to tell, underneath the leafy shade of the canopy above them out the window. Everything is cool and dark and blissfully shady.