The difference, he thinks, is that she knows, now. It was one thing to be shut away in a bunker somewhere without knowing she was different to anybody else, without knowing what she might have been missing out on. All this time she's known what she was, what restrictions were placed on her, and suddenly that's all gone.

He doesn't want her to wake up tomorrow, back to the way things were, and be disappointed. He knows there's nothing he can to do prevent that, and that's the hardest part.

It's hard not to smile at the excitement that dawns on her face all the same. He doesn't see any reason why she can't enjoy this while it lasts, for as long as she can. When - if - things change again, he'll be here for her.

"It seems that way," he says, giving her an answering smile and after a beat, a wink. "There's only one way to find out. Ice cream?"