Okay, well, that could have gone better, but it could have gone worse. No tears, just huffy troll noises and a mild case of sassing a bookshelf. That's a bleak road to go down, Callie, best shape up while the TARDIS can forgivingly chalk it up to dimensional jetlag. The Doctor recovers from the pearl-clutching shock of Callie acting out, and hurries after her like a crinkly windblown leaf. "Callie," he tries, in his best and most admonishing voice, "Don't be like that. Is that how you want to start things off, in a new new universe?" Being so young and impatient must be such a trial, the Doctor thinks, without a touch of irony. But he can forgive her tunnel-vision when it comes to adventure; who couldn't, considering? He catches her up and tries a new tack, in what he probably assumes is a discreet aside. "Look, Ianto's been through a lot, he's still recuperating. We have to let him find his footing, then we can set out properly." When in doubt, blame Ianto. This will probably continue to be an excellent strategy, maybe he should chalk that up somewhere prominent. Maybe not in English.

It's not even a lie, not really. Without him, they probably would already be out the door. It's more that he wants to demonstrate a proper understanding of his responsibilities than it is concern for Ianto's presumed fragility, but who's keeping count. "We'll be on our way in no time. You just have to be a little patient." Even with previous experience, it's hard to reconcile this sulky creature with Callie's usually sunny disposition. Or, for that matter, stern ghostly Muses of Space, not that he even wants to make that reconciliation, particularly. "Don't you want to have a look out at the stars, with your tea? Might see something you like."