Eva looks for a moment like she has a smart and witty comeback to that, 'you'll be fine', and then for a moment like she has a really cynical retort that will prove to the Doctor that life is a dark, dim place. But she pauses. Because she doesn't believe that. Life is beautiful, life is sweet, and yes, life is painful and hard and some days it's all she can do to get out of bed in the morning and she's hitting the sauce before lunch, but he's right.

You'll Be Fine.

Even if it's something she doesn't believe yet, it's something she wants to. Maybe she'll get there. Maybe she won't. But at the crossroads between stubborn optimism and jaded defeat, how could she choose the latter? Even with her son dead. With her mind fragmented. With her husband carrying the burden a family that no longer fits together right, deceitful puzzle pieces with parts that seem to match and patterns that clash. With her body broken and twisted. She wants to believe. And wanting is the first step.

So she smiles.

"Maybe I will. Later. When I'm not dripping." She squints out into the darkness, wishing she could have her glasses. "What do you think that is?"