[Slinks off into the darkness.]
[Her voice wasn’t sharp.
She wasn’t angry.
It was a statement.
Albeit, a bit of a worried statement but—
anything but harsh.]
[He flashes a broken smile for a brief moment.
His head lowers and shakes almost imperceptibly.
He was letting her see him while he was weak
-something he would only have done with his wife.
He lifts his head after a moment, all harshness gone.]
“Why do you care?!”
Amy flew back smacking her head against the wall. His change in mood was so quick it took her a moment to realize what had happened. Her heart raced in her chest. The Doctor, her Doctor had never been so abrasive before.
"What do you mean centuries?" Her eyes watered a little while a hand reached to the spot he used to launch her. "W-where are you in my time line? Am I still…" Alive? She couldn’t bring herself to say it, but dared take a step closer.
"Centuries, Amelia - I gave up that name because it didn’t fit me anymore, much like you humans would discard an old shoe or glove. I go by the Predator now, and you’d be wise to remember that.”
The Predator starts to turn away from her, his arms folding over his chest as he distances himself from her. “…no. You and Rory are dead, and so is River. All buried in the ground, far from me… It’s better off that way.”
"It was an excuse to get me to touch ‘you’, so that time could fix itself."
"Admit it: you wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”
River arches an eyebrow, her pale painted lips curling into a light smirk. “That’s not what you were implying,” She teases. A throaty laugh escapes her lips. “Make me.”
"River…" He glares at her for a long moment, green eyes narrowed. "And I’m not in the mood right now, dear. Something’s sort of… come up," his voice is low as he speaks.
"It depends on your mood." She smirks at his failed attempts to appear disinterested and wraps her arms around his neck. She presses a rough kiss to his lips, before pulling away. "Now, what would you like to do with the fresh blood that’s in my bag in my old study, Predator?”
A guttural growl escapes from him before he can help it. A million things that they could do with the delicious liquid were running through his mind, and all of them had their own sense of promise. He moves his lips closer to her ear again, unable to keep the animalistic tone from his voice. "As if you don’t know. Now, come on.” He takes hold of her upper arm and drags her towards her study.
"Sure!" She called out grabbing a wrench and lowering it down to him. "Anything else?"
[She couldn’t believe what she was about to do— Nervously she
stepped forward, resting a soft hand on his arm, hesitating a bit
before the question rushed out of her mouth.]
"Are you okay?”
Stupid. Weak. Idiotic.
Everything but ‘okay’.
He doesn’t flinch away from her
- but he doesn’t meet her gaze, either.]
"You’re a fine one to talk about holding. How many hands do you have?"
"River, th-that’s not… oh, shut up!"