He manages to get it off finally, although the process makes him feel a little grey around the edges, then John is dropping to sit down on the edge of one of the beds and examining his fleece. The fleece doesn't unzip all the way to the bottom, and John is debating the merits of trying to haul it off.

"It might be easiest to cut this off me," he admits, and reaches out gingerly for his bag -- pulls a serrated knife out of one of the side-pockets with a sigh. "Since it's all ruined anyway it doesn't make much difference, unless you were planning to wash out the blood and patch up all the rips."

You know, from wolf teeth. He holds out the knife to Ianto handle-first after a moment of hesitation, offers a slightly wincing smile.