"Yeh?" she asked very, very quietly. And just as carefully, she slid her fingers between his. It still felt good, surprisingly good. Hadn't been meant for her - she'd wanted to hold his hand for him. For the first time, she wanted to hold his hand, not just a shadowy copy of her Doctor's. Felt different... and not just because his fingers were thinner than she remembered. This was just, just different.
Not for a second had she taken her eyes off his face. His eyes carried the lion's share of his expression, when his face was quiet. She saw the hope and the relief and, despite reason, the want. He still.... Even after... Her fingers tightened.
"I haven't been very kind to you," she finally confessed. "Been too..." She stopped, before she explained how losing the Doctor again in this reality had all but wrecked her. He had to know, already. He'd treated her as if she were mourning, all kindness even when she lashed out. And it had been mourning. Her other hand came up to his wrist and wrapped, her thumb sliding over his pulse. "I hope you'll let me change all that."