[ the doctor's expression starts pensive, because he couldn't, he couldn't have dipped into his own timeline, the bad wolf already muddled everything up, made it volatile. canary wharf was a fixed point, and so was their meeting, and so was his death. it was too much of a risk. there's a shadow of his tenth self in his eyes when he looks at her, lonely and guilty and wishing he could have broken the rules to be with her, but knowing that if he did, he'd have gone too far. ]
[ but then she remembers, and it vanishes as he breaks into his own smile. ]
Yeah. 'Course you did.
[ he reaches up and brushes away the wetness under her eyes, because he can't actually stand it, and maybe he wants to say something else, but the lift doors open. ]
no subject
[ but then she remembers, and it vanishes as he breaks into his own smile. ]
Yeah. 'Course you did.
[ he reaches up and brushes away the wetness under her eyes, because he can't actually stand it, and maybe he wants to say something else, but the lift doors open. ]
Eighteenth floor. That's us. Come on.