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[attackbrows]

	You've reached Dr. Funkenstein. Expert on all things funkadelic. Please, by all means, save us both the hassle and don't leave a message.
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[attackbrows]

I don’t need one. I lived it, Sweetie.

[Two assassination attempts. A weapon carved out of the Silence. And yet, here he stands. A testament to both time and madness.]

Do you honestly think that I’m so fragile that your sins will crack my vows to you as your husband?

[spoilers]

A fraction of it. You got off lightly.

[ She steps closer, fingers itching to reach out and press against his chest. They stay at her side as she flexes them restlessly. ]

Fragile isn't the word I would choose.

[attackbrows]

Good.

[His footsteps inches closer to her. He knows that look. If there is anything he can infer from his previous regeneration, he knows that there is about a millennium’s worth of words hiding beneath her eyes. Words that neither of them can ever say to each other.

His hand swoops in and threads between her fingers.]

It doesn’t suit either of us.

[spoilers]

Not particularly.

[ Her fingers tighten around his, all the things she can't (or won't) say poured into that single point of contact. ]

I haven't been allowed many choices in my life, Doctor. I won't apologize for the ones I make now.