She sen him a questioning look after he said they couldn’t play God, because didn’t they always, even when choosing to spare a life instead of taking it? But then her expression turned thoughtful as she processed his words, listening - always listening, no matter how much she may sometimes argue, she was all too aware of how the Doctor had changed her for the better long ago, how vital it was not too dismiss his words, not ever.
“I guess…” she started, tone of reluctant agreement, but then she remembered that not only the Doctor was fallible, choosing to send her to ‘Pete’s world’ against her will before she had pushed the button to come back, for one, and even more, she thought of the horrible human face of a man she had clashed with months before, not ugly per se but so diabolically amused, and Rose froze for a moment only to shake herself, quite literally, with a shake of head out it, “But you are assuming he doesn’t deserve that last resort because he’s human, and being human means he can still change, Doctor, but not every human has that ability.”
Angry, at herself and at that man, she got clumsy and knocked the kettle. Saved it from a fall, but hot tea spilled on her sleeve; she quickly pushed it up to keep the fabric away from her skin, and put the pot back on the table, “Some people choose to be that bad, and aren’t going to change if given the choice, they already had the chance before but enjoyed hurting people, just like the man we had arrested today. And I’m… I’m worried. I don’t want him to hurt other people, to get it wrong…” Not having dared to look at him in the eye this time, when she lowered her gaze, thinking of how many times she had made that mistake, Rose suddenly saw her uncovered arm, the burn on her skin from the alien restraints and all those scars she hated, and her heart dropped as she quickly hid it back, hot sleeve or not, grabbing kettle, pot and a cup to take it to the sink. Please, let him have missed it, I was saying something he must hate, please, let him have been distracted for once. “It’s not as if I’d feel good about it, but how do I learn when we should?”
He reached for the kettle in the moment that it fell, but Rose got there first, preventing it from causing too much damage. She was talking again, letting him into her concerns, but if he was being honest, he was only partially taking them in.
A large burn consistent with any number of species’ restraints was splashed across her wrist and scars dotted her forearm. Some were faded, as if they had been formed a long time ago, and some were much more recent. He caused this. If he had left her at the Powell Estate that snowy day when he had the chance, none of this would have happened. He would circle back round to her thoughts soon, but this was more important right now.
He took a few unsteady steps toward where Rose stood at the sink, picking his words ever-so-carefully as his soothing voice emerged. He had an awful suspicion as to how she managed to get scars like those, but he wasn’t going to judge. He wasn’t going to judge because it showed just how much he had influenced her, even in ways he hadn’t imagined.
