River didn't quite let go either, grip getting tighter with every passing shiver as she pressed her face into his tie. She could smell him better, this way, and he smelled more and more like Ianto. So familiar. River didn't want to move anymore.
But Ianto was insisting, and she took him by the hand, leading him into a drawing room. It was wide and open, meant to be filled with sunlight, but the damp grayness outside promised rain instead. She sat him down on a little sofa and settled into his warm, accommodating lap. River didn't need to say anything -- the presence was enough.