Never said he wasn't one to force distance between him and his friends. Yet still, she doesn't seem to hate him. He wonders just how far gone he has to go to make them hate him, as they should. To stop coming back, as they should.

He really needs the hum of the TARDIS in the back of his mind. He's tipped far into self-loathing than is comfortable. His safety net's gone.

Now, he actually leans into her. Hugs are one thing but personal space--usually on his end--is different. Turns his head to lay it against her shoulder.

"Can never turn my mind off, that's my problem," he murmurs. "Thousand years and I can't shut it up. Too much knowledge, thoughts, worlds. 's'hard. How does someone stop thinking?"