Eva takes his hand with a dramatic gesture and a dainty loose wrist. "Whisking me away to an island paradise, Doctor? It would be romantic if it weren't for the shoddy transportation."

By which she means running from the library and that awful dumbwaiter. She's sending it waves of telepathic disapproval now.

She's kidding, of course, with the flirting. She sees the Doctor as a friend, nothing more. Well, perhaps something more, but nothing romantically more. He's the type of person who tends to be the planet around which other, more short-lived satellites orbit, and those tend to be the types she avoids. She likes creating her own trajectories. So he's more than a friend, in that he's a friend who overcame the obstacles of her own obstinance and isolation to find himself at her side. Or to find her at his side.

"And knowing this sort of place, that could range from legitimate monsters to temperamental rock quarries." She undoes her hair and combs through it with her fingers as she gazes out onto the island. As they cross the beach she gathers pieces of driftwood, rolling them in her hands to test how damp they are. "I don't suppose you're adverse to building a fire? I'm chilled to the bone, but if you think it will attract carnivorous rock quarries I can grit my chattering teeth and bear it."