He couldn't tell her about the bullet. Or the sword. To try and explain how he was alive, with his head attached. How he had lived far beyond the years he should have.

Time travel was one thing, but even he could not begin to explain himself. The admission that hovered on his lips, that somehow he had foolishly thought he had found a reason to smile, certainly one to travel, he bit back, letting his eyes fall.

"Perhaps, then, I simply need reason to find my feet."