"You should get the Doctor to check up on me in fifty years and see if I should even bother with the rest of my life." He reaches for the water again and succeeds in knocking it off the nightstand. Awesome. Self-pity and drunken clumsiness, what a winning combination.

Barbara's hand is warm and soothing on his back and he wants to just focus on that. He shuts his eyes and tries to visualize her hand like a red shape in the darkness. "And I'm saying I can't. No one's ever going to want me when I'm a mess inside and out."

Who would have anticipated being so anti-social could make him so lonely? "It was nice for like, forty minutes to feel like someone wanted me like that."