The Doctor all but froze when small, determined fingers landed on top of his once more, a lesson in futility, he surmised. She was pushing, and he knew she was well aware of the reaction her deliberate behavior would garner. He hated being trapped, and that's exactly what she was doing—trapping him, boxing him in and forcing him to look at the issues between them. Problems that he had been running from ever since the day he realized that Rose Tyler was going to be his downfall. Sitting still in an uncomfortable wooden booth in the middle of a public chippy while he was made to listen to reason was the last thing the Time Lord wanted to do right now. He wanted to run, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, not this time.
“Don't be ridiculous,” he snapped irritably. He didn't think any of those things. Did he? He only ever wanted to see her safe, and she wasn't going to remain so if he continued to place her in danger by simply being involved in her life. Granted, it hadn't exactly turned out the way in which he'd planned, but he certainly hadn't meant for it all to go so miserably awry.
“I don't think you're an idiot, just the opposite, I think you're brilliant, you know that . .” he stressed, exasperation clear in his voice. “But you're not listening to me,” and with that he gave a curt shake of his head, attention veering toward the table where his hands remained motionless beneath the warmth of her palms.
“Rose, you might have your own relentless, often mind boggling bias where my saint-hood is concerned, and . . I find it extraordinary and a little bewildering at times that you have that ability, but it doesn't change who I am or the things I've done, the things I will do. You're too stubborn and foolish when it comes to me, you don't think, you just do, and that's dangerous.”