Eva's instantly swept off her feet, and downright attacked by what seems to be a chair from another room that seems deadset on getting past her and into the time vortex itself. She covers her head from death-by-furniture, getting her other arm wrapped around the railing at an uncomfortable, but firm angle. Her feet slide around the floor and then just fling mindlessly through the air, as the floor itself rolls up like a carpet and slips off to some other side of the room.

Eva is, fortunately, the type to find some sort of chaos in beauty. Unfortunately, she is not the type for whom beauty is some sort of analgesic to legitimate irritation. When the time vortex finally stops, her hair is in sopping wet ropes, her knuckles are white, and she's fairly sure she's sporting a pretty nasty bruise on the inside of her elbow.

She looks at the Doctor and scrunches up her mouth as if she's gathering an army of invective to launch at him, and just comes up short.

"Now can we go home?"