John takes his hand and moves to sit next to him, swipes up his towel and offers it to Ianto. You know, for the... cream.

"Well," he begins, "I can assure you that you are definitely one hundred percent Ianto Jones. The only one I know, for that matter -- and... when I think of you, I think of... coffee, and wordplay, and suits. Lock-picking."

He flicks Ianto an uncertain smile, because John has no idea if anything he's saying is remotely the right thing to say.