He huffs out the breath of a laugh at John's reply. In retrospect, he hadn't really known what he was doing at the time. He hadn't even known the proper way to throw a headbutt, it had probably been that as much as the bat that had knocked his brain around inside his skull.

"Well, when the alternative was to sit around and watch them sharpen their cleavers and talk about tenderizing our meat," Ianto points out, "I had to at least make an attempt." All the same, he leans into the arm around his shoulders, turning his face a little into John's neck as if his presence by his side would protect him, now, nearly a full year after the fact.

"It wasn't the best of days," he concludes, after a moment.