Just a minute ago she was standing by his grave, admiring how richly decorated and well looked after it was. The Doctor showed it to her after visiting one of the museums dedicated to him. The sun was shining down at it, making the gravestone looking white like a canvas. 

But now she was looking at him in person. His eyes could be defined as blue but they were so much more than that. They were the sky, the brightest star in a surface of nothing but black. It was the color of an island nobody knew of but you. The feeling of a snowy morning and the scent of spring rain. His hair was red but not oppressive at all. It looked like the afternoon.

She looked at him like a piece of art. Would he ever knew how important he was? A poor genius in an era that was cruel to all its artist. 

He extended her hand to her but instead of shaking it she entwined her hand with his. He was visibly surprised but when the redhead saw the look she gave him, the unique glimpse in her eyes just he was able to see, his face softened.