Ianto sort of tucks and rolls, pulling his limbs in and away from the edge of the door so that when it slams shut, he doesn't lose any limbs. He slides a few inches as it does, propelled by the door, and catches his hands on the door frame to stay upright. Way to find something to prop open the door and help Ianto get out too, Johnny.

He brushes at his sleeves - he's smoking, just a little - and sees that corner of his jacket is wedged into the door. Great. He shucks it reluctantly, watching it dangle distinctly un-neatly. It's just a dream. He wasn't attached to that dream jacket. It's fine. He can imagine another one. A better one. Yeah.

"This is," he comments intelligently, at a loss to describe the bedroom they've ended up in. It's so... "Normal."