"I wouldn't need to stand around pestering you for explanations if you'd just give them to me readily, you know." Eva refuses to concede this point. In a world full of killer libraries and fire-breathing space bugs, 'trust me' may work on impressionable twenty-something with wide eyes and fiery spirits, but only gives her a reason to frown at him. He isn't dealing with cute little girls here, he's dealing with someone who raised a child and bears the stretch marks to prove it.

For a while she sits at the edge of the boat, staring out over the ocean, letting the spray of salt get in her eyelashes and her hair. She looks serene for a bit, as if the rollicking of the ocean has stolen all her inner turmoil for itself.

At least, so it appears, until a storm appears on the horizon. Eva looks up and sees that birds - or, it appears, strips of rags in the form of birds - are fleeing away from some dark reddish cloud on the horizon, like a blood stain on the sky. It begins to occur to her how completely massive the inside of the TARDIS is.

"Doc, do you see that?"