There was more understanding in Jack for The Doctor now. How could there not be? Things had changed since they first met, all those lifetimes ago. Jack knew something, now, of what it was for lifetimes to pass him by while others moved, lived and died and left him behind. Only something, yes: not the vast experience of it The Doctor had. But something, even if he lacked the sort of temporal powers to let him do anything like Q had. Or like he knew The Doctor was capable of.
When it came to weird, though. Well. Jack probably had something going in those stakes himself. Maybe not so much weird as unique.
He'd pretend that was part of what draws him constantly back to The Doctor, that sense of familiarity, of a commonality between them, but he knew he'd be kidding himself if he did. There were much simpler needs at play.
When The Doctor looked back, his hand tap-tapping at his leg, Jack met his eyes, but only for a moment.
He shrugged.
"What's to talk about?"
Everything. Lifetimes and friendships and saving the world and not saving the world and trying, always, to be a better person because of what The Doctor had taught him. But it was always easier to pretend otherwise.
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When it came to weird, though. Well. Jack probably had something going in those stakes himself. Maybe not so much weird as unique.
He'd pretend that was part of what draws him constantly back to The Doctor, that sense of familiarity, of a commonality between them, but he knew he'd be kidding himself if he did. There were much simpler needs at play.
When The Doctor looked back, his hand tap-tapping at his leg, Jack met his eyes, but only for a moment.
He shrugged.
"What's to talk about?"
Everything. Lifetimes and friendships and saving the world and not saving the world and trying, always, to be a better person because of what The Doctor had taught him. But it was always easier to pretend otherwise.