The stories they'll tell about us. I'd like to hear those.

[ He knew, of course. The only answer there could possibly be, and the one he wanted to avoid with every fiber of his own being. He would have been happy to avoid it forever. He could have been happy, just happy, with the memory of her and nothing else.

Another lie.

In all of her fussing and touching him, he finally lands on resting one of his hands atop hers, staying her for a moment. ]

Then you shouldn't be here, River. You're not supposed to exist anymore.

[ It sounds perhaps a bit more callous than he means it to, but then, he's not always the best at that. ]