She remembers the upsetting and alien distance between them too, in fact she feels it again now, looking at him without innately understanding how he came to be. And so she doesn't quite reach out telepathically, not yet. Instead her brows knit together more tightly at his hurried and frankly superfluous explanation, as though it isn't obvious that he miscalculated, that he wasn't careful enough.

When he mentions hope, her expression changes to something like grief. She really had been hoping, after meeting him; she'd known it might take a very long time, of course, she has no way of telling the time differential between their universes and he was likely to get distracted, but his offer of help was a sliver of hope. Now he is here, as she'd dreaded, and she is just so tired. But that isn't what this Doctor needs to hear. "I know," she says simply, and then uncrosses her arms and steps aside, briefly glancing down at the dog. "Come inside, then. Daine wants to get changed."