Ianto, who was most certainly not looking himself up in this universe on Space Google, turns away the console monitor and sticks his hands in his pockets with only a minor amount of guilt. He's been through three TARDISes by this point, a fourth now - it'd be hard not to pick up the basics. He gives the Doctor that look, the look that's practically a trained response to the word 'home' now, the one that says we both know that's not an option and you should know better, but then the sharpness fades from his eyes. No, this Doctor wouldn't know, would he. Ianto's only knew - only cared - because of their friendship. The whole affair must've been a blip on his radar, if that.

"Home's off the table. Along with most of southern Wales for most of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Why do you think I ever started traveling with him?" You. Him. Getting better about that. "There weren't many places I could go." That's a joke. That's mostly a joke. He started traveling with the Doctor entirely out of choice. Yes. "And even less I wanted to go to."