Three hundred and twenty-two days. So near the end. Only forty-three short little Earth days left. –He thinks of how long they felt at the time, and doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse.– The Doctor forces the dying smile to stay on his face.

“It’s been three hundred and sixty eight for me,” he tells the other gently. “I’m from your future, Master.”

Setsuna is saying something about leaving them be. –and the Doctor thinks in some part of his mind that he’s been rude again and he flounders–

“Oh, I, uh… I’m sorry, Setsuna, terribly rude of me, it’s just, the Master and I… well, you see we... we didn’t… part… on the best of terms. And I…”

The half-hearted attempt at asking him to stay might be more convincing if he could tear his gaze away from the Master’s face.