"Good," the Doctor said, giving him. "Because the best part of Morafia 8, well, the part that I think is the best part, is how utterly different the world is there from what you know. Subjective gravity wells, conversational toasters, and they take their tea in the morning."

He pulled on the hand brake and half-hopped over towards the door, pausing only long enough to grab his coat. He liked pretending that nothing was wrong, that they hadn't just lost four years, the Doctor to death and Jack to his grief. He liked pretending that they were going to be all right as they were.

And maybe, if he pretended hard enough, they would be.