"What is it with girls and a veil that makes every single one try it on." He mutters so quietly it's practically just a mumble and Amy sends a sceptical look in his direction. He replies with a scathing look, coupled with an arched eyebrow, both of which make Amy reluctantly remove the veil from her head.
"You never let me have any fun." He rubs his eyes wearily as he prepares for her latest rant.
"You've got your own wedding dress at home, one that we can take you back to at any point," he reminds her as he opens up his hand, waiting for the veil. "Plus you're showing it to the wrong man."
"Real men aren't afraid to say what they mean."
"I'm not really a man though, am I?" He's quick to point out the obvious and she curses under her breath; she never gets the truth from him, no matter how hard she tries.
"Well you're not a woman," she counters, and she gets such a buzz from their banter, watching his eyes flicker around the room in haphazard thought.
"That I am not," and he's glad he's not. All those code words and hormones and make up. Who needs time spent applying make up when you can visit the seventeen suns of Salandeux? "But, more importantly, I'm not a human. And not forgetting Rory, your human. Well, your man."
She raises a sceptical eyebrow but he carries on. "Although you always call him a boy. And me, for that matter."
"Like I said, real mean talk true." Her eyes are so expressive it scares him, because the longer he spends around a companion, the more he becomes like them. Rose turned him generous and gave him the capability to save, Martha turned him studious and reminded him that he can't do everything alone, and Donna gave him a sense of forgiveness, one he'd be missing for so long. And with Amy came the worry that he too would show too much of what he was thinking, and with his mind, that was never a good thing.
"I don't lie," he points out, scratching his head as he ponders where to put the veil. "I just tell you what you need to know. Where's the harm?"
"Oh I don't know, my life?" Her answer doesn't actually make sense, but the point behind it is valid enough. He absconds from the truth to keep her safe but somehow it always manages to do the opposite. He fondles the veil gently and she watches him with admiration; he's lived so long but he still has so much care, compassion. "Who's was this?"
She nods towards the veil and his eyes soften as he tries to remember. Truth be told, it was never bought for a wedding, it was exchanged for an old rock Martha had brought with her accidentally, after her nephew had given it to her as a present. "No-one's really," he resolves to tell her because it's far too complicated otherwise and the true story would have no relevance to Amy anyway. "You can have it if you want."
He's changed his tune but she's not going to complain. "Really?" It's probably the most heart-felt thing he's done for her and she can't help but show him her appreciation.
Before he knows what's happening, long slender arms attack his neck and her cheek brushes his. His arms fly about wildly but as she doesn't look like she's going to be letting go any time soon, he does all he can think of, and lets them scoop around her back. He tries to ignore the tiny gasp she emits as his hands brush against bare skin on show between her garments. His eyes drift shut because he might well not be human, but he's still got feelings and Amy's doing a grand job of messing with his.
"Thank you," she breathes so softly into his ear and then he pulls away, because with him, this is as far as it gets. Well, as far as he's prepared to let himself go. He's had too much heartache to lose again, even though right now, his heart is as far away from whole as it can be. A piece belongs to Amy, to Rose, to all the others he's loved and lost. And it plays havoc with him, so giving away a veil of a bride he'll never have is not really much of a gift. It's a necessity before he really does turn into a mad man with a box.