Rose couldn't help smiling back. She missed that smile of his every time they were separated. And they were separated far too much for her liking. When he'd arrived, she'd sworn not to get wrapped up in him again. She had too much to deal with already, she certainly didn't need that, too. Yet as he always did, he worked his way into her life. And into her heart. Git.
Then her hands were in his, fitting perfectly as they always had, and he was speaking of her as if she were some beautiful, wonderful ancient species rather than simply Rose Tyler, Vitex heiress, formerly of the Powell Estate, and now demon Hunter. It wasn't right. He couldn't fill her head with thoughts like that. They made her believe she was actually something special. And she didn't think she'd ever be special. Not even now.
Shaking her head almost defiantly, she pulled one hand free. "Don't. Don't say things like that. I'm not...that's not me. Someone else. Donna, maybe. River. Not me." Hell had done a world of hurt to her self-conscious, on top of most everything else. "I'm not the girl from Canary Wharf. Not now."