[ She feels an odd sort of disconnected interest as bony fingers land just short of their feet, scraping against stone, but the Doctor has a steadying affect. The dizziness seems to subside as she lets herself get distracted again, her hand lingering on his arm around her waist as she takes a second to get her breath back. ] Thank you, Sweetie.

[ The Doctor's tone isn't lost on her, and she's glad, for the moment, he can't see her face. It isn't that she regrets her choice. She isn't even really angry with him anymore. But it has hurt, the reminder, more than she'd expected. She's spoken about it openly enough since arriving here, but it's different with the Doctor, to say the words where he can hear. And though she's committed to memory every time she's lost him, the when and the how, she doesn't care for having his deaths repeated either. ]

Yes, Fred, as long as we're sharing, how did you come about your end? [ When she pulls away, her fingers still brush his arm, reassuring him she'll be fine. This time she's more cautious, giving the skeleton less attention as she scans the walls and floor. ] Who's bound you here?

[ She doesn't really expect an answer, but hollow, unseeing sockets turn at the sound of their voices, now they've woken? him. ] Nothing wrong with his hearing, apparently. Don't ask me to explain that one.

[ Then she's looking back at him again. ] I'm sorry, did you say scratch-and-sniff?

[ She's married to a child. ]