The longing in her voice came out, even though he couldn't see the expression that should've gone along with it. He wanted to erase that longing, very much, and he couldn't deny wanting exactly the same thing as she -- wanting her walking around outside this craft... Wanting to see her as she saw herself. Who was she, really.... Or, perhaps it was more accurate to ask who she'd been. A deep sadness welled in his center. She simply couldn't be the girl she thought she was. He still wanted to help, however he could.
"Well," he said, then leaned back on his hands against the couch. "Well," he began again, a little stronger this time. "What would you do now, if things were different?" He pushed away from the couch at last, then grabbed up a throw pillow. "Pillow fight?" he asked, giving her a smirk and thwapping the top of the dalek's head, careful to avoid the stalk. Then he reversed the pillow thwapping onto himself, all the while throwing out his free arm as if trying to ward off her phantom blows.