He almost loses it at the thought of the Doctor being called a Mistress. Though he could be girly enough, so perhaps it was fair. "No, the Mistress is human. The other is the only one left after the war besides myself." And it wasn't right because –he had the power of a god and didn't save them, and he should have found a way, broken the laws, damn the codes to the end of the universe– forcing them together was like stirring oil and water, like shaking a martini and expecting the gin to come out unbruised.

He blinks curiously when the kid holds the carton out; he is not one to expect that offers are returned, so the gesture seems very strange indeed. He takes a cigarette, figuring that if his subconscious wants to give him one there's no reason to refuse. "Well, it would always be different. Especially between species. Cosmic and celestial never really do match up." And power over time versus matter didn't match up either.