[He doesn't back down, his own eyes as dark and old and challenging as the other Doctor's, anger held back but ready to snap forward at any moment. A constant anger, perhaps unlike his other's. An anger that never leaves, never since the War. Never since the drums.]

Well, I'll tell you what I've learned when the War's over. Properly over, that is.

[He tips his head, from where he's now leaning against the doorway, indicating the hallway.]

C'mon, you'll want your suit and that coat.

[And he wants to get him out of here before he lets himself get angry or defensive, too.]