AMY: “I’m 34.”
THE DOCTOR: “Didn’t ask.”
AMY: “No, but I could hear the sums going on in your head. How old are you these days?”
THE DOCTOR: “No idea.”
AMY: “Oh, shut up.”
THE DOCTOR: “I don’t. I live in a time machine, I don’t age – there’s nothing to go on.”
AMY: “Excuse me, mister, you’ve got seven grey hairs.”
THE DOCTOR: “You counted??”
AMY: “It’s a hobby.”
THE DOCTOR: “I try to keep up – Time Lord instinct. It’s only polite! Can I have a go?”
He takes Amy’s glasses from her nose, pops them on.
THE DOCTOR: “Actually, that is much better. Never knew I needed glasses, that’s exciting!”
On Amy just staring at him for a moment – amused but troubled. Is he ageing just to be kind??
AMY: “How long are you going to keep doing this? Dropping in, taking us on trips?
The Doctor looks at her – just a little vulnerable, a little unsure.
THE DOCTOR: “Do you mind?”
AMY: “I love it, it’s just… every time you fly away, I think surely he’s bored of us by now. (Hesitates; rare moment of vulnerability) But I do sort of hope you aren’t.”
During the above, the Doctor has been listening, but distractedly watching something. A family wandering through the park, a little boy at the back. He’s holding the string of a blue helium balloon – and at this exact moment the string slips from his hand, the balloon starts soaring upwards. The Doctor watches it fly up and up, squinting against the bright sky.
THE DOCTOR: “Flying away’s good. But you’ve got to fly from somewhere, or you just get lost.”
He’s pulled out his sonic, now zaps the drifting balloon. It drops like a stone, bounces at the feet of the little boy.
THE DOCTOR: “Lost in the sky, imagine that.
The little boy has picked up the balloon, grabbed the string again. It shoots up and starts bobbing about again The little boy looks over at the Doctor – who gives him a cheery wave, and pockets his screwdriver. Amy has watched the final parts of this exchange fondly getting what he’s done.
AMY: “Read to me!”
THE DOCTOR: “Thought you didn’t like me reading aloud.”
AMY: “Shut up, and read me a story. Just don’t go “yowzah!”"
THE DOCTOR: “You’re the boss…”
AMY: “I am the boss.”
He’s opened his book again. And now, casually, he rips out a page from his book, tosses it in the hamper.
AMY: “Why did you do that?”
THE DOCTOR: “I always rip out the last page of a book. Then it doesn’t have to end. I hate endings. “
AMY: “Yeah. Me too.”
She smiles. And we hold on them for a moment, tranquil in the park, sitting back to back, as the Doctor reads…