Ducking out the bathroom again John scrubs his face with a towel, pauses by the bed to peer over Ianto's shoulder at the woman in the photo more closely before stepping away again.

London. That rings a bell. When Torchwood London fell, after the smoke cleared, it was like. They forgot about us. So she's probably not alive anymore either. So many photos of dead people.

"She looks fun," John offers, and sets his towel back with his things -- moves to sit on the edge of the bed and begin unlacing his shoes. "More fun than the last boss I had. Richard Woolsey. Liked to try and do everything by the book, but we wore him down."

Or maybe Atlantis as a whole just wore him down.