Rose waited for the class to clear out before making a move. Not that she'd decided what to do yet. Coming here had been a big step, something that she felt Bill would've been either proud of or exasperated with her for taking so long. Probably both. Still, the blonde was leery of getting know this Doctor and risking some sort of attachment--her brain kept floating a quote about insanity and repeating the same mistakes--but curiosity and the wish to make a rude gesture at whatever passed for destiny here won out in the end.
She slowly made her way down to the front, for the first time feeling like an impostor in the coat that she now called her own. The weight of the material across her shoulders, the soft swish of the hem that touched the floor if she didn't wear shoes that were high enough, the brush of too-long cuffs over her knuckles: they all acted as acute reminders of the fate of the original owner and ate away at whatever madness had her thinking that she was ready for this. Halfway there, she was ready to turn tail and run right out the door.
But he had been willing to revisit his past with her. Him, a man that she had always known to run from his memories if he were running from anything.
No, not always, but now wasn't the time to think about him.
It might've been penance or perhaps want of the familiar. Whatever his reasons, Rose knew from experience that she would have to be the one to bridge the gap, so she willed her feet to cover the rest of the distance. She came to stop behind him, well out of arm's reach, and waited for him to finish his notes before speaking; it wouldn't do for her to startle him into messing up his work. "Hello, Doctor." There was a tentativeness there that she hadn't meant to let slip and she winced to hear it, so she ploughed on with something teasing. "Chalk and a blackboard? That's a bit old-fashioned for you, isn't it?"