Giving the question about the nature of the pits the consideration it deserved, Ianto leaned forward slightly, resting his eyes on the mounds of Jack's knuckles thoughtfully. They stayed there for a second, before he turned his gaze up to look at Jack again. "There was a time I would have taken that risk, I think. It's easy to see why people are taking their chances, but the damage that could be done... Nothing like that has ever worked without repercussions," he mused, not pessimistic, but acknowledging the reality of what they dealt with.
There was the very lightest hint of a smirk on his face at the mention of Weevils, and he was about to agree that the not-so-enviable list of things Jack had done was getting longer by the day, when he threw in the fact that John Hart was there too. Ianto tried not to show his surprise at hearing that bad news, nor the faint thread of dismay that the name threatened to unravel. The memories it evoked still tasted like ash in Ianto's mouth; it hadn't even been a month since the calamity with Gray and the bombs, and while he recognised that he couldn't lay the whole blame on John's shoulders, the man had been a significant part of it. Too much of a part for Ianto to ever feel comfortable near him.
Letting out a breath between barely parted lips, he shoved that feeling down, crushed it hard until there was little of it left on his face. At that moment, he was even more grateful for the supportive hand on his knee. Ianto knew that saying 'Weevil hunting', true as it was, wouldn't be helpful to either of them. So he said simply, "Owen and Tosh." He watched Jack's eyes for any reaction, no matter how small or fleeting. If Jack had experienced the calamity of their deaths, then the names would be enough for him to know what Ianto was referring to.