Ianto hesitates only for the briefest of moments - only for the span of time that it takes him to inhale to answer, at most - before answering, leaning a bit straighter against the door as he does. "January. January twelfth." He doesn't have to say the year, does it? It probably hasn't been a year since then. He half-smiles at the memory, which wasn't that smile-worthy at the time, but hey, it's a story. "I came out in The Lake. I think. Close enough to it. Might've drowned a little and blacked out. I don't remember actually coming through." Which is probably for the best.