Fair enough, avoid home and most of the south of Wales, for most of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. The Doctor nods along. That all seems like pretty sound judgment to him, though Ianto probably has actual specific reasons. Reasons he's being a little reticent about, but that's probably fine. Actually, it's great. If Ianto had shown some sign of not being reticent about it, the Doctor would be seriously considering spontaneous unconsciousness, like one of those goats. Or faking it, at least. The art of the cold faint is a subtle one, and one he should probably have picked up somewhere along the way. Maybe there's a how-to online. Maybe Ianto can find one, since he's on such good terms with this TARDIS too. Maybe a sign, 'Browser histories WILL BE CHECKED.'

None of which is the point. Well, ask a stupid question...or in his case, blame a vague not-quite-question on an absent party. What part of Ianto's vague, not-quite-answer is the least odious to pick apart? Is this how normal tourists feel when faced with a plate of foreign food? Wouldn't potentially eating bugs be better than this. He barely contains a wistful sigh. "I didn't think about it, actually. I'm not sure I've ever thought to ask anyone why." He's also not sure he hasn't. And he isn't sure he's going to start. "I think I tend to stick with asking why not." And he usually asks people who don't know a million and one potential answers to that question yet. "But it's a big universe. We could find you something. Or you can just," he executes a little ocular shrug ceilingwards, "Shop around." Which is to say, post-pone the question by going to look at nebulae and gemstone pyramids and carbon sand until something sticks.