[ This, too, is a fascination of the Doctor's — how very close mortals come to teetering on the edge of their precarious lives. So long spent observing them now, it seems they're often unaware of the short distance that separates them from another sunrise and their last breath. This harrowing little brush with death, though, would not be soon forgotten. He should hope.

The boy seems as dazed as one might expect, and as the Doctor gets to his own feet — up and off the ground where he'd been poised to...well, roll and tackle — he watches him curiously. Go on, he thinks. Contemplate your life and your choices. His gaze shifts then, eyes locking on to those familiar golden ones in silent gratitude. The Doctor might have executed a foolish little maneuver that would have edged him far too close to the beast's teeth himself. Even now, it seems, he's not the best at self-preservation. Though, death would only be another adventure, another fascination to him.

His hands faintly glow with the patterns of constellations and stars across his skin, tips of his hair edged with something like moonlight. ]

No recruiting him for any of those seek and hide or playing fetch games, then, near the giant pit with sharp teeth, is that what you're saying?

[ It, perhaps, is not the time, but that's never stopped him, and he faintly smiles to himself. ]

What will he do with his life now, I wonder.