Ianto takes the spoon back from him and resists the urge to reach out and run his hand through his hair like he wants. To offer a comforting gesture that he’s not sure whether the other man would welcome at the moment or not.

A splint and a sling. Something for picking fibers out of the wound. Right. Taking a deep breath, he pushes himself up to start digging through his bag again.

“I’ve got —“ He holds up a pair of tweezers he’d had stashed in the same little bag with the silverware. “This should do the job. And I’m sure we can figure out something for a splint and sling too,” he adds, setting the tweezers aside and digging through his bag. Though it’s just as well he didn’t bring any of his ties along, he thinks privately to himself.

“How stable are you looking for this to be?” he asks aloud.