[ He dips his head, lips curved into a small smile, a little touched, and honestly a little humbled. It's easier to preen in the face of a compliment, because he does so love compliments, but this ... well, it isn't a compliment, exactly. It's a trust and a belief and a hope that is being placed on him, and as the Doctor, it's his responsibility he feels he ought to bear.

He accepts those words with humility because he accepts the responsibility with great seriousness. He knows his future self would feel the same way — and he knows it, because they are one and the same.

He lifts his head to meet Kovacs' eyes briefly, then turns his gaze upwards into the smoky, ash-filled sky. ]

Well. [ He tucks his hands into the pockets of his long coat. ] It took me some doing, learning that difference, learning that there really is such a thing as being too ... known, making too many waves as they say. It could get away from you, and you lose so much. [ There'd been a time when the name of the Doctor was synonymous with Great Warrior, and he didn't like that all that much. It wasn't what he'd meant to be; it wasn't what he wanted his name to mean. ] And it's the vulnerability, you know, it's the vulnerability that makes everything else feel precious.

[ He lets out a breath, feeling both assured by Kovacs' words and yet still weighed down by the reminder of this memory, stitched into every life of the Doctor's since it'd happened. It will always be there, a dull hurt under his ribcage. ]

I think I've seen enough. What do you say we find our way out of here, eh?