“I think so,” the Doctor says, distracted. He bobs his head, thinking. “Obviously we’ll have to jettison the Wardrobe after, since it’s likely there’s going to be trace amounts of infection even with my fix.” He sounds sad about that, mostly because he’d started becoming rather fond of that version of the Wardrobe. His scarf collection was still in there. “And I suppose at that point we’d be too busy holding onto something to worry about if the Wardrobe falls anywhere it shouldn’t. I hope it doesn’t land anywhere…awkward.”

He really, truly hopes not.

The Doctor wants to say that this shouldn’t trigger any time or space travel, especially with how the TARDIS has been grounded since he woke up on Stacy, but he’s also quite sure the old girl can get finicky at times like this as well. Probably didn’t help he’s rewired bits and pieces of her so much over the centuries that even he can’t entirely remember what goes where anymore. It’s possible they might end up careening loose from the Hanger or – worse – falling back through time somewhere and when. The Doctor picks at his lip, tugging at it as he frowns.