[ She leans to the side to glance past him into the room at first, expression more than just skeptical. It softens when her eyes rise back up to his face though, and then she moves past him and into the room. It's messy, and somehow that doesn't surprise her.
She thinks of Hopper. Thinks... maybe sad men just make rooms messy. She doesn't feel like cleaning her room either when she's not in a good mood.
But Eleven's eyes fall to the two beds. And she lives alone, too, but...
Well.
Well.
She reaches up, slips her small hand into his, and squeezes. Looks up at him again. Patient and gentle in ways beyond her years and circumstances. ]
[ How is it that she'd been able to see right through him like that? In fact, her earnestness, and her knowing reminds him so much of a certain Pond and it aches something dull and sore in his hearts.
The Doctor's expression softens and winds up somewhere between determinedly peppy and just a little tired from the pretending. Really, if he were in his own TARDIS he would probably do a fair amount of brooding. He gets like that sometimes. It isn't his favourite thing about him.
But Eleven's hand is small and warm in his and when she squeezes, he squeezes back. ]
I think I rather miss my — [ What would you call an older, crosser version of yourself? And what about your previously-dead-but-not-dead-here wife? Well: ] — friends.
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She thinks of Hopper. Thinks... maybe sad men just make rooms messy. She doesn't feel like cleaning her room either when she's not in a good mood.
But Eleven's eyes fall to the two beds. And she lives alone, too, but...
Well.
Well.
She reaches up, slips her small hand into his, and squeezes. Looks up at him again. Patient and gentle in ways beyond her years and circumstances. ]
Do you?
no subject
[ How is it that she'd been able to see right through him like that? In fact, her earnestness, and her knowing reminds him so much of a certain Pond and it aches something dull and sore in his hearts.
The Doctor's expression softens and winds up somewhere between determinedly peppy and just a little tired from the pretending. Really, if he were in his own TARDIS he would probably do a fair amount of brooding. He gets like that sometimes. It isn't his favourite thing about him.
But Eleven's hand is small and warm in his and when she squeezes, he squeezes back. ]
I think I rather miss my — [ What would you call an older, crosser version of yourself? And what about your previously-dead-but-not-dead-here wife? Well: ] — friends.