His expression became more tight somehow, the memory of holding Jenny in his arms as she took her last breath still burned into his mind. Just as he anxiously began to rub his hands together, Rose disrupted the anxiety with her brand of perfect comfort. In surprise, he looked first at the gesture, then reluctantly to her face. Did he have the hearts to say Jenny was going back to meet her death? No, he supposed not.
"She does," he replied almost emptily, any effort to forcibly perk himself up now seemed to fail. Pretending for so long hadn't gotten him anywhere. What did he have to show for it? Countless lost companions, a Time Lord Victorious, and the knowledge that his song was coming to a likely fateful end.
Perhaps the tired he felt existed deeper in his bones.
"Drown? Me?" He halfheartedly scoffed. "Nah, I'd sort it out. Got floaties in those pockets, Rose. Never leave the flat without portable floaties that inflate themselves. Might find yourself walking the plank and then drowning in your own coat. Can't have that."
If he was serious about it, the world would never know. The vast amount of things within his infinite pockets was of an unpredictable variety. Generally, he almost always found whatever he needed most when the time came. His repeated attempts at lightening the mood for her sake kept failing, which was evident in the way the Doctor squeezed Rose's hand in search of comfort only she had been able to give him. How he'd missed those tiny moments between them.
"She loved running," he offered suddenly, wearing a glum smile as he regarded Rose. "Imagine that, hm? My daughter, a runner. Who knew."