"Oh, very different, then," the Doctor murmured, only half-paying attention if truth be told. Most of his attention was on the Vortex pulsing out of Jack, making his skin tingle with its wrongness, the wrongness of someone being alive when they should be dead, of being there, fixed, immovable.
He looked up at Jack, brows drawn together. "Yet you still absorbed the Time Vortex. Some things were obviously the same then? Rose, presumably?"