[He'll have to get back to the question of just how much he'd unlocked at a later time--either on his own impetus, or when she reminds him. At the moment, he's much too engrossed in where the conversation's gone, and he can't help but smirk just a bit smugly at the thought of Rassilon fuming and raging as he's shipped off into exile. Maybe it wasn't the wisest choice ever, knowing Rassilon, but it sure as hell was poetic.

There's the first hint of a look of concern when he realizes she's talking about the whole council, as well. His smug anger gives way to one of those searching looks, absorbing all she says, and gauging as best he can just what her relationship to those events is, now interrupted only briefly by an eyeroll at the hybrid nonsense getting dragged into it, too. He already knew his future self had something of a dark chapter, but the more she connected the dots between the bits he'd retained, the more sense it made.

Try as he might to maintain his composure, she knows his face too well to hide just how concerned--how alarmed--he is at what she describes. He glances downward with a wince as she describes the way she used--he will use?--the extraction chamber, what their long-awaited reunion with the Time Lords was and will be like, how their last run with Clara went and will go. He smiles one of his wry, ancient-eyed smiles when she mentions the diner (that slotted another bit into position better than his hypotheses could have done), and squeezes her shoulders lightly at the last bit.

Everything they'd gone through, just to be exiled from Gallifrey again.]

...well... could've been worse, eh?

[The Doctor pauses a tick, glancing aside briefly as he considers that.]

......not by a lot, but still.

[He's at least partly joking to lighten the mood a little; but he's also partly not, and he raises his eyebrows at his older self meaningfully.]

When the memory block cracked, I got ev'rything to do with Clara, all at once--couldn't retain all the details, not without their context, and nothing in the right order. Only other thing I got was that... black mark, the psychic scar from the Confession Dial, I s'pose... like a wall of anger and despair and fear I couldn't see past, except that we saw her again.

[There's no mistaking that the details hurt him, still, but he ducks his head to try and catch his older self's eyes, to make sure she follows what he's saying. They'd had a dark page here and there, and things had gotten pretty bleak for them during the War, but there was one moment in his past when they'd maybe gone even farther.]



...I thought we'd... done something, something terrible. I mean, yeah, we did, I s'pose, not our proudest moment, and not the first time I've thought Eyebrows should've known better, but I'm glad she was there to stop us.

[He knows he doesn't need to provide a citation for the advice he's paraphrasing.]

Last time we'd felt like that--that anger, that despair, that fear, all at once--was after Mars.

[Banishing the Council, essentially conquering Gallifrey, misappropriating an extraction chamber indefinitely and thereby threatening the stability of time itself while snatching away a friend's agency for his own selfish purposes was all pretty bad--but all that was still just the tepid edge of the realm of Time Lord Victorious power fantasies, and they both knew it.

The Doctor shakes his head after a second, giving his older self an uncertain, pensive look.]

......after...

[He pauses a moment, knowing he probably shouldn't ask, since he's already wading up to his neck in foreknowledge... then flashes a mask-like smile and glances downward.]

...no, sorry, probably best I don't ask... ...and I s'pose it's a bit obvious, really.