"Good," he said dryly. He was still suspicious. He knew that look, that tone.
He rubbed a hand through his hair. "Because I mean it. Whatever I've done - whatever I will do - back in the real world, I don't want it to be like that any more here, with us. I... I can see now what I'm like when I'm actually in control - what I could be like if I was in control - and I don't want to be that mad guy anymore. I want to be me."
He found he was staring at the Doctor intensely, hand clenched round his glass, almost trembling, terrifying himself by coming out with this to the Doctor and absolutely expecting to be laughed at again. Or shoved away. Or something.