The Doctor looked at Liam, but said nothing. He wasn’t in the habit of telling people things would turn out completely fine when he didn’t have the usual sliver of reassurance that it would.

He ran a hand through his hair, his expression grim. “Liam, you interrupted them in the middle of a religious ceremony with-...” The Doctor waved his hand helplessly, unwilling to say the word, ‘magic,’ “-whatever that was! Their rites and passages might seem inhumane by our standards, but it means something to them. You’ve gone and shown off powers unlike anything they’ve ever seen before. People react to power in two ways; they respect it, or they fear it. Either way, people are going to be looking to you now for answers about things far beyond their petty day to day squabbles, and you’ve just gone and told them their religion, the basis for their entire society, is wrong!”

His hair was standing on end because of the number of times he’d frantically run his fingers through it.

“And I don’t know what they’ll do to you if we out you as a liar,” he fretted, his distress palpable. “I need more information,” he decided. “We need to find out who these people are... who they become. If we can do that... You’re safe so long as they think you could smite them at any moment, but we’re going to have to keep this up until I can figure out what to do next.”

He finally looked up, seeing the look on Liam’s face, and his expression softened. He reached out, affectionately stroking the younger man’s cheek. “It’s-... I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he promised. It wasn’t what Liam wanted to hear, he knew. But it was the only promise he could securely make.

“It was just a party trick,” Liam offered his alternative term for ‘magic’ - the word the Doctor seemed to avoid, and Liam, too, if only because his own terminology made his mishap seem less severe. “Fuck, I’d given this holier-than-thou wanker a blinding dose of this stupid ‘cleansing light blah blah’ bullshit he seemed so fond of... if only ye’d let me.” The bitterness in his voice, some underlying, poorly hidden grudge seeping into his words, stood in stark contrast to his reddened eyes.

“I know that specific flavour of tosser; talks ye into believing emotion is sin and guilt trips ye for not being their perfect unfeeling robot.” He was trying his best to justify himself, even though the evidence was crushing: he was in the wrong. With all the best intentions, but an execution akin to launching a nuclear bomb when all you needed was to dig over your garden patch.

"Oh, thank you, I appreciate that.” Rhys slid his card over to Yuri as well, the both trading stamps in the background of tea and conversation.

As Yuri spoke of festivities, his heart seemed too grim for his words. Rhys, honestly, knew little about him. However, he could understand why a grand ball or party could seem a little bittersweet. Only a matter of hours existed in every day, and every day no matter how splendid had to come to an end. And missing something or someone, he couldn’t pry, but he did offer his own experience.

“You know, I missed out on a lot of life growing up.” Rhys sipped his tea again, watching the dancers out in the center of the ballroom as though they were already memory. “Illness, you see. I was too fragile to play outside, and spent much of every season stuck in bed. Now, I don’t mean for anyone to feel sorry for me, but I know how sometimes, well... might-have-beens can be awfully heavy. I’ll never get that time back I spent only dreaming about living. My youth, I suppose,” he said with a soft laugh, recalling how weak his youth had been.

“Don’t you ever grow weary of the same routine?” 

“Ugh, I feel bad for whoever has to sort all this mess out.”

“Uh-huh.” - Not them. That’s for sure. “Yeah... reckon we could just, uh... head out of here, innit?” He pointed in the vague direction of where the Doctor had ‘parked’ the TARDIS, although now that very same corridor appeared to be blocked. Because of course it was.

“Why do you always have to ruin my fun?” 

"Oh, excuse me. Ye were havin fun, innit? Mea culpa. Hadn’t noticed. Guess the soddin’ suffering ye sow everywhere ye go was too distracting.

Disbelief prompted Liam run his hand over his face, pausing to cover his mouth and prevent a shaky breath from turning loud gasp. Following his gaze which had wandered from the derelict walls to the ceiling he raised his phone to snap a picture, then dialling a number he had not dared to call in way too long.

“Bloody ‘ell, pick up the damned phone,” he murmured, a sense of urgency tinting his voice. When finally someone did answer the phone though, Liam froze for a second, internally debating whether or not to end the call just here. He did not. And the other better did not either. “Don’t hang up,” he was pleading, “It’s me, Liam. I... I know I shouldn’t call but there’s somming ye need to see.”

The lengths we go to preserve a lie...

Last night’s events hopefully resemble nothing but a blurry dream for the other. If anything at all. Because when Liam had realised someone witnessed him working magic, he had no qualms knocking the other out with the very same.