"Mum's the most amazing person ever. She made me good." All the pride and love he feels for Sarah Jane is tangled in the fact it's been two months since he's seen her. It's the longest time he's ever gone without her. And after scrutinising Martha's reaction, he can only tell that she looks upset, which is something he didn't want. It's the reason he's skated over the parts of these stories where thousands of people died. "Do you want some tea?" he offers, leaning forward in express sympathy. It's her room, so he can't exactly sort it out for her without being rude, but it'd give both of them something cheerful to focus on.

Of course, Luke's problem has never been a lack. If anything, he appears overemotional. Everything he feels shows up on his face, sometimes deliberately exaggerated like he's got something to prove. It's the tricky business of feeling the right things at the right time. He's apathetic when he should be sympathetic, excited when other people are crying over Dalek invasions. The fear's always too strong and the horror is never strong enough.

And then she brings up the shadows, and he does find it weird that so many people are focused on telling him he's somehow different. Clara said that, too, and he's not sure what either of them are basing their assumptions on. "Why?"

Just in case it's a question without an answer, he tacks on a joke. "No, you're right. I'm more like the people behind the mirrors." After some thought, it's become very important to him that he doesn't call them plain 'mirrors', like some do. Whatever they might be, whether they even care what they get called, talking about them like they're objects can't be a good thing.

"It's really okay, Doctor Jones. I know no one else agreed with me about them. It's fine."