He was a whirlwind, dashing around the space and operating the machine like he'd never known anything else, and as amazed as you were watching the process, as shocked as you were about the things you had seen that you'd thought impossible, you couldn't help but ask. Just one thing.
He slowed at the sound of your voice, and turned to face you, something knowing in his eyes, the eyes that seemed older than the universe itself.
His mouth moved into something of a bitter, twisted smile, an unfamiliar sight in that face. Not that you'd known him long enough to tell. "Dangerous question."
That smile told tales of the universe, about love and loss and beauty and mourning. That smile said, I have seen things you wouldn't believe. I have lost things you could never understand.
Your words became stuck in your throat, not reaching your lips.
In a moment of pause, just a second of deafening silence laying heavy in the air, the Doctor turned around and walked up to the huge machine in the middle of the box, flipping a few levers with casual carelessness.
He turned around with a grin, a cheerful and slightly insane grin that looked so at home on his face. "The universe at you fingertips. Everywhere, every time to choose from. Where do you want to start?"
And you choose to forget it and you run up to him, your eyes sparkling. Because this, this is the day everything begins. And there's not a moment to lose.