The smile slips from his eyes, his lips tightening but still retaining a half sort of grin. It is far from jovial as that dead look has taken his mood away. There should be sorrow or empathy streaming from his hearts. This was himself, several centuries older perhaps but still himself. There should be compassion and honest want to comfort.

Instead he finds himself doubting. Finds himself wondering if there is mercy enough in him to feel compassion for another Time Lord; for himself. "If you were in my place, and you were. Once. You know that you would want to know." With a graceful sort of arch, he stands up. With purpose he walks towards his older self, hands behind his back and peering down his nose at the younger looking man.

"Answer me one thing, my dear self."