"You’ve lost the baby face," River observes, though her voice is quiet and the normal teasing is gone, her eyes looking away from him. Somewhere just south of his breastbone twists, because this is the first time she hasn’t recognized him first and for some reason that aches more than the entire regeneration had.
"It’s still me, River," he says, reaching for her as his glasses slip down his nose- he’s still not used to needing them, the heavy lenses uneven on his less-angular face. “I’m still me."
DON’T DARE BLASPHEME THE NIMON!
Brb laughing to death
I’m surprised this doesn’t have more notes.
S C R E A M I NG
I do love playing aristocrats, probably because it’s so against type. So much more interesting than playing a version of yourself. - Keeley Hawes