Not for the first time did Ianto think about how things had changed between them. Especially now. There was an intensity now that didn't exist before. Probably born of despiration. Ianto shook his head and rubbed at his forehead just a bit.
"No, I'm not getting into your head. I'm inviting you into mine. I know enough that I can sit here, wide open, while you rummage." Ianto held a hand out, briefly, then dropped it, shrugging. This hurt far more than he was letting on.