[And like a pool of honey, all the flies are drawing in to his little entrance. Tyki takes a moment to consider his replies, especially in regard to Ianto. When you've been a Noah like he has for as long as he has, there are just some things you know. Things you sense, you pick up on and pull out like a loose thread. The sound of fear in a man's voice is one of them, something acidic and sweet. He can close his eyes and still hear that tone of voice, still feel the resistance of flesh as it tears. The hot run of blood across his palms...
He abruptly lifts the lid, playing with the keys absently.] So it would seem. Good evening, Ianto. I trust you're well?