"Actually, where I come from?" Rhiannon met Ianto's gaze steadily. "It's been known to happen, once or twice. A bit more, if you have relatives and friends who are really good at making enemies."
She paused, her lips twitching a little. "And once again, I run into a Ianto who isn't Ewythr Ianto. Sweet fate, how I love thee." There was a faint mockery to the words, amused and irritated at the same time. "Rhiannon St. Claire, 2039. What year are you from?"