Klaus I 13
The Doctor wasn't quite sure, but she could have sworn she could sense a sadness creeping into in Klaus' voice and her eyes softened on him a little, her smile fading, but not entirely. She was measuring him, empathizing with him either way. Longing. It seemed to be a great, and tragic universal constant.
"Yeah, it's alright. Think he's been stickin' to himself lately. I was like that when I got upset or disjointed when I was home. Or when hew as me. Same difference."
She was now smiling at Ben, then at Klaus. "Hold onto that. I mean him. You never know when it'll be the last day."
The Doctor knew a thing or two about last days, but she hid it well. A few hundred years of losses help you learn how.