His wrist in her hand, Arthur sat back on his heels. He looked into her face and smiled a little with one side of his mouth. She was earnest, and he liked her. "I apologize, Amy Pond, for threatening to put a bullet through you and forcing you into dream-share." He said it very gravely, not just to appease her.
Gently he shook her off with one arm, and set the metal suitcase on its side again to open it again. He turned it so she could see and pointed at the now dark red timers. "We were asleep for two minutes. It felt longer, right? If this is set long enough, I could live for a hundred years--dream time--and not wake up. No one is supposed to be able to reconstruct how that die would move except for me, which should differentiate a dream from waking. But buildings don't move, and I don't remember leaving the airport before I arrived here. That's what happens in a dream." He shut the case again, firmly. Click.