Ianto nods, taking back the spoon and packing it and the little bottle back away in his pack again, before moving to sit back beside the other man once more. Leaving the water and the cloth where they are, per the other man's request, and folding his hands in his lap for the moment instead.

In the absence of having anything to do with his hands and fuss over John physically, Ianto's mind turns over the past few days instead. This is the first that they've really been speaking to each other in any semblance of the word at all, since before Jack had appeared. It's awkward -- to want to ask after him and to know without even needing to ask that John hasn't exactly been doing well. And that it's all tied back to him once more.

"Is there -- anything else I can do?" he asks, hesitantly. In the absence of any safe conversational topics he can think of, he's back to fussing. Hoping that if at least he leaves it up to John to direct him it'll keep from being too much. Hopefully.