Brief but vicious glee wins out over the urge to roll his eyes at the cigarette. The imaginary heat almost feels real, and it's a little bit wonderful. True to evil form, the house has other plans, and the door Ianto came through swings silently but abruptly shut. Ianto pushes himself away from the wall and skids to the door a moment too late to fiddle with and pull ineffectively at the exposed doorknob (with, perhaps, a lack of real enthusiasm or urgency).

"We've a plan B," he points out helpfully.