The fourteenth? Ianto rubbed at the back of his head, brow furrowed. They had gone stargazing on the ninth. God. He's been dead five days. Dead and gone and back again.
Ianto nodded a little. "Something like that. It's been .. a rather difficult afternoon, I'm afraid." So to speak. Actually, it's been pretty easy, just the aftermath was the hard part. Ianto felt ill.