Well, this stranger can shoot Johnny between the eyebrows and hope it would wake him up. Even if it didn't, dream, right? What's the worst that can happen. Mental trauma? Whatever. "Probably better for you. Psychologically." Ianto lowers the gun to his side and starts to underhand the lighter to Johnny, then stops mid-throw, closing his fingers around the metal. "You're not actually words," he says slowly, half a question, because sometimes there are dudes made out of words who are massive dicks. "This won't hurt you, I mean." Is he asking? Is he reassuring? Yes.