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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]

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.