It may not be actively pointed at Ianto, but it's still out. John, who has just leaned back in from scanning the street, meets Ianto's eyes again and his expression clears in something akin to shock himself.

Six months? How?

Disbelief furrows his brow, and he tries to collect himself.

"There were -- people with me. A -- big guy with dreadlocks, a -- pale guy, blue eyes, Canadian, kinda cranky...."

He studies Ianto's face, looking for anything like familiarity. Anything that might help him puzzle out what the hell is going on here.