Having a flirty companion was never apart of his itinerary!
But he's not going to complain, not just yet. There's a bubble around him, you see, a protective bubble where her flirty eyes can't penetrate nor can anything else because Amelia Pond is quite the fairytale for any sort of bloke who comes her way. It's unfortunate Eleven isn't such a bloke; he's not even a bloke at all. But the bloke that can very well tame the inner princess within her is long past gone, and the Doctor feels a great heavy blanket of guilt for what Amy has endured.
"Don't be silly, Amy," he looks at her, brows furrowed, but the glance only lasts a moment before he's pulling a lever and punching a button. He walks around the centre of the TARDIS, the heart of his beauty, before looking through a magnifying glass. "A future where you're dead is not a wonderful one at all."
Death, death. Such an ugly thought. He moves away, flicks his hair back, and tries to remove it from his mind. And pulls a lever down with a force that the TARDIS copies, pulling them down before righting herself once again. "I have eight hearts, Amy," he says, "and they're all pumping just fine."
Deflection, deflection, he's not fond of this d word, either.
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But he's not going to complain, not just yet. There's a bubble around him, you see, a protective bubble where her flirty eyes can't penetrate nor can anything else because Amelia Pond is quite the fairytale for any sort of bloke who comes her way. It's unfortunate Eleven isn't such a bloke; he's not even a bloke at all. But the bloke that can very well tame the inner princess within her is long past gone, and the Doctor feels a great heavy blanket of guilt for what Amy has endured.
"Don't be silly, Amy," he looks at her, brows furrowed, but the glance only lasts a moment before he's pulling a lever and punching a button. He walks around the centre of the TARDIS, the heart of his beauty, before looking through a magnifying glass. "A future where you're dead is not a wonderful one at all."
Death, death. Such an ugly thought. He moves away, flicks his hair back, and tries to remove it from his mind. And pulls a lever down with a force that the TARDIS copies, pulling them down before righting herself once again. "I have eight hearts, Amy," he says, "and they're all pumping just fine."
Deflection, deflection, he's not fond of this d word, either.