Ianto flinched away from the touch. He was shaking and he looked panicked as he spoke. "No! Don't...just don't touch me," he ducked his head down, wrapping his arms tighter around himself and biting his lip hard enough that it bled. "He doesn't like when other people touch me. Doesn't like sharing." The Master had been possessive, and hadn't let the staff have contact with him. It had never really bothered him.
"Why are you here?" he asked. "He's going to come back. I know he is. He wouldn't leave me. He wouldn't!" One hand tapped out the staccato bolero beat of the drums against his other arm.