John braces himself as Ianto begins a countdown, and carefully tries to avoid meeting his eyes. The rip of fabric makes him flinch, something he tries to suppress, and then John is glancing back down and vaguely making himself process the smears of red all over his arm. There are two slightly larger, deeper puncture wounds and a section where the skin has been scraped back. It's difficult to see how clean things are, though, with the mix of dried and wet blood largely obscuring much of anything.

"Go on," John says tightly, and he knows that although it hurts now it's going to start stinging any minute and there's a lot of raw flesh to sting. That's fine, he can do breathing exercises to keep himself steady. Although maybe something to bite on might have been sensible to stop him grinding his teeth. Or something to numb it.