River arches an eyebrow slightly when he tells her how long it's been. Perhaps she could've come a little earlier, but she'd waited and chosen this specific moment, found him in a life that was best equipped to handle this news - if she ever got round to telling him.

"Well, I was in the right century, give or take a decade," she says, playfully flippant, setting her chin in her hand. "Didn't want you to go without seeing me for too long, did I?" She gets to her feet then, falling more and more into this pretence, that it's almost easier to forget why she's really here.

"Not a bad time, is it?" she asks him, coming closer, her hands going to rest against his forearms.