Rose looks out over the water; Mickey sits on a bench with his back to her: "So what do you wanna do now? We could ask about hotels..." That time is past. Rose asks, "What would Trisha Delaney say?" He agrees, and starts to suggest a bar a ways down the street, when she suddenly turns on him: "You don't even like Trisha Delaney!" The anger in that. When it's now been a year and a half, and it's not just the Doctor, but the Captain, too -- and he doesn't even know about the Adam Mitchell fiasco, which is basically what he says, after a quick and lousy attempt to stand up for his relationship with poor Trisha Delaney: "At least I know where she is!" And she nods, because she finally gets it, because he finally handed it to her. Rose starts to lecture Mickey that it's got nothing to do with Trisha and it's all about him, and he explodes with what he should have said ten episodes ago: "You left me! We were nice. We were happy. And then what, you give me a kiss and you run off with him and you make me feel like nothing, Rose. I was nothing." Consider the early-act pratfalls earned, then. Rose is an asshole. "I can't even go out with a stupid girl from a shop, because you pick up the phone and I comes running." He asks whether he's just standby -- like that's not obvious -- and she shakes her head, because what do you say to that? "I am an abominable teenager creature and that is my prerogative. Two birds in hand and another one in the bush, and you have to ask why?" If Rose did drop-kick him to Scotland, she would at least feel her foot connect, and then she'd be a better person than this -- she's not even registering that when she's not there, he still has to be. A year of being accused of murder and six months of Trisha Delaney? Poor Rose for being responsible for this. Mickey: "Am I just supposed to sit here for the rest of my life, waiting for you? Because I will." Gross. They're both so gross. She apologizes softly and tries to touch his arm, but he shrugs her off.
Blon promises the Doctor she's changed since they met in London: "There was this girl, just today. Young thing. Something of a danger, she was getting too close. I felt the blood lust rising -- just as the family taught me. I was going to kill her without a thought. And then...I stopped. She's alive somewhere right now, she's walking around this city, because I can change. I did change. I know I can't prove it..." He calmly stops her: "I believe you." She asks whether that doesn't prove she's capable of being better, because she still doesn't understand that from where he's standing, she always was. "It doesn't mean anything," he tells her. She protests, but he's not having it: "You let one of them go, but that's nothing new. Every now and then, a little victim's spared. Because she smiled, because he's got freckles, because they begged. And that's how you live with yourself. That's how you slaughter millions. Because once in a while, on a whim, if the wind's in the right direction...you happen to be kind." This is tenuous, this bit, because what's going on is good, but it's done in a really weird way. It's about problematizing the whole rebirth thing from last week: that the healing of Albion meant the Doctor could choose to be who he wanted to be. The next step of his development should be looking into the mirror that Blon represents and being able to synthesize his darkness with his light, his guilt with his grace, instead of praying for a blank slate and a fresh start every time. That's the next mature step, and maybe it's asking too much for a creature with thirteen lives that they should reach for that. But what Blon says next takes it to a tangent: "Only a killer would know that," and that throws him. She presses: "Is that right? From what I've seen, your happy-go-lucky little life leaves devastation in its wake. Always moving on 'cause you dare not look back. Playing with so many peoples lives -- you might as well be a god." (Which, see above re: her biased viewpoint here, and the Davies obsession with Boys and Girls Who Leave, but still. The other side of the lateral jump is that you're taking advantage of your privilege to do so, and nobody else has to.) The Doctor drops his eyes. "...And you're right, Doctor...you're absolutely right. Sometimes...you let one go." Tearing up in earnest, and pretty heartbreakingly from this side of the screen, Blon looks into the Doctor's eyes: "Let me go." Well played and real.