Ianto sits on the bed, cross-legged, staring out the window.
A knock on the door. Gwen's I-don't-want-to-disturb-you knock, which is different from her I-don't-want-to-disturb-you-two knock.
'Come on, Ianto, Owen says he knows a pub round the corner.'
'What fucking nob got him a room with a view of Canary Wharf?'
'That would be me,' says Ianto and gets up off the bed.