“I got them a collection back in the Tardis,” he pointed toward the direction where the TARDIS was. He felt his despaired ship in that direction. “It’s under “I” in the Indy 500 race car I have down in the TARDIS,” he grinned. “Rather, it was the first hybrid Indy car to race the Daytona race in. . . er 2033,” he thought about it, “And I had to deal with some Indians…and that’s when I did found that dash collection of Indiana Jones because I had met Harrison Ford’s great grandson who created the Hybrid Indy car,” he finished looking all proud of his story. Rose might have a suspicious some of that story was a big wild lie.
“Anyway, stop giving me that wild look I am giving you a high tail freak story,” he took her hand. “Lets go to your place because you so insist to go to it. That must be one hell of a bed,” he was being cheeky. “If that so, I find a way to take it and put it in the TARDIS, is that what you want? I guess,” he stopped and looked around rubbing the back of his neck with an eyebrow up.
“It’s an odd time to ask you but,” he gave up and he had a tone that was like it, “You wanna be like my wife. Like will be part of the TARDIS and me. And I thought maybe I can lend the TARDIS to Susan while. . . I stay here,” he seemed little fidgety. “I want to do this for you. And I am not good at this. I never had the time to pick up, Dating 2001 or How to do this by Dummies publishers. Maybe dummy is not the word,” he looked at her serious. “What did you call me git and dim wit. By the way, good description for me, I admit I am terrible Rose. Are you sure you want me for your boyfriend or some what future husband. . . Did Sara said I was husband or was we just boyfriend and girlfriend? Do you know? I don’t know? I am not sure I want to know. What if we aren’t and you accept me as a husband. And that didn’t happen. I just changed our future and Sara. Will that change things? Did I mess things up all ready?” he brushed his hair through his hair. “Oof, I never thought of that. Here I am worried seeing my future when I had been showing myself to my past and here I am being a hypercrepite,” he looked pale and he leaned back on the wall. “I am the paradox. If everything goes away, I am at fault. But, what’s been done has been done. But, what I did, did it happen before or I just realize what I did? Was it a choice?” he started to walk and he was rambling off about rifts and science stuff. Stuff the writer won’t touch, again he got stuck analyzing the situation. Everyone around him seemed to go away.
Than, he leaped and threw his hands up in the air, “You right, what has been happened and what we do will not affected it because its all had been done and it won’t make a difference. So, if things will come to an end, than how to celebrate by being with you,” he said, than he had a sad look. He had gone from happy to sad in a snap of a finger.
He had an image of himself dying. “I don’t wanna die,” he whispered. “I don’t,” but a storm of a wild smile popped up. He winked at Rose, “Forget all that, come on lets go to your place. Mister bed is lonesome tonight,” and the Doctor started to sing ‘Are you lonesome tonight’ and he had tried to sound like Elvis Presley.