Scene 14 – Dustbin Cell
[The Doctor finally turns to see the glass tube rising away to expose a squat, bronze-plated trash can with a hatch marked “LITTER” on its domed headpiece between two horn-like light bulbs. The machine is held on a raised plinth by leather and chains, and dozens of electrical wires run inside its cracked body casing. It is... a Dustbin!]
DOCTOR: [horrified] Oh, for fuck’s sake, not AGAIN!
[The lights flash haltingly in time with a voice disturbingly similar to Nicholas Briggs through a ring modulator.]
DUSTBIN: Doc... tor...?
DOCTOR: You have got to be fucking kidding me.
[He turns to leave as the Dustbin quickly recovers its speech.]
DUSTBIN: You are an enemy of the Dustbins! You are to be exterminated!
DOCTOR: [rolls his eyes] It’s not even going to be able to hurt me, is it?
[He turns around.]
[Nothing happens. The Doctor folds his arms.]
DOCTOR: Honestly, you’d think “D’you Believe This?” hadn’t been written!
Scene 16 – Dustbin Cell
[The Dustbin is still desperately trying to zap the Doctor with its laser-targeted dustpan and brush.]
DUSTBIN: [still trying] Exterminate!! Exterminate!!!
DOCTOR: Look, do you want me to bring Simmons back in?
DUSTBIN: [terrified] Stay back.
DOCTOR: Stop me then you big tin wanker!
DUSTBIN: KEEP THAT FREAK AWAY FROM ME!
Scene 15 – Outside the Dustbin Cell
[The figure in white sighs and snaps its ghostly fingers in annoyance as if to say “missed it by THAT much!”. Meanwhile, Sue-Ellen watches with undisguised pleasure. So undisguised and obvious I thought I’d mention it anyway. Gunther and Simmons are watching too.]
SUE-ELLEN: So it does talk! Perfect! It could have been really embarrassing otherwise...
15. INT. OUTSIDE THE DUSTBIN CELL
(SUE-ELLEN watches with undisguised pleasure.)
(And she enters the room. An eager SIMMONS follows. GUNTHER tries to intervene.)
(He follows her in, reluctantly.)
16. INT. DUSTBIN CELL
DOCTOR: What are you even doing here, anyway? What do you want? Answer me! There’s only half an hour left to tie up an integral plotline and get on with the series, you know!
[The door behind him opens, and Sue-Ellen enters, followed by Simmons. Suddenly Gunther tries to get in ahead of them and stop them.]
GUNTHER: Madam, it might be dangerous...!
SUE-ELLEN: Gunther, never show signs of independent thought again in my presence again.
GUNTHER: Sorry, madam.
[He slaps his own wrist, deeply ashamed.]
SUE-ELLEN: You’ve done your bit now, Doctor. Don’t expect gratitude or anything. Restrain him, Simmons.
SIMMONS: Oooh, I like this idea.
DOCTOR: [backing away] Don’t you bloody come near me, pal...
[Sue-Ellen walks up close to the Dustbin.]
SUE-ELLEN: [loudly and slowly] Listen to me. We need to talk. Do you understand what I’m saying?
SIMMONS: Madam, please, it’s not a foreign tourist or a deaf aunt! Simply talk normally... speak the language... the language of pain. Smack the bitch up!
[Sue-Ellen reaches out a hand towards it; before she makes contact, the dustpan and brush droop.]
SUE-ELLEN: Simmons, is that meant to happen?
SIMMONS: [shrugs] I dunno. Maybe it’s finally submitted to humiliation? Maybe it’s dead?
DOCTOR: If only it were. Things would stop being so bloody predictable for a start.
SIMMONS: [checks the controls] No, hang on... There’s a pulse, but it’s very faint. And it’ll be even fainter after I ravish it tonight. Oooh, it will be a festival of pain!
SUE-ELLEN: Simmons, do what you have to.
SIMMONS: Yes, madam. God I love this job.
SUE-ELLEN: Keep it alive.
SIMMONS: Of course I will! I’m not kinky or anything.
SUE-ELLEN: And have it ready to answer my questions! That’s what we pay you for, Simmons, not to satisfy you disgusting libido when it comes to forced intercourse with alien cyborg monsters!
SIMMONS: Oh, like there’s no overlap there!
DOCTOR: Um, excuse me? The Dustbin’s wired into your electrical generator. I don’t particularly want to know why, because Simmons probably did it to get his rocks off and that just takes me to a scary place that I don’t wanna go. But my point is, we could destroy that thing right here, right now!
SUE-ELLEN: Aren’t you some wishy-washy protector of other life forms or something?
DOCTOR: No, you’re thinking of Dr. Suzuki, not Dr. Who.
SUE-ELLEN: Oh yes, so I am. My apologies. But why do you want to destroy this creature. Do you know it?
DOCTOR: What gave it away? The fact it knew who I was and we were shouting personal abuse at each other for five minutes? Stop snorting talcum powder and get a grip, you slag!
SUE-ELLEN: Interesting. You can tell me more.
DOCTOR: Can I talk to someone who still has a short-term memory?
SUE-ELLEN: ...no. Gunther, bring him. Simmons, back to work. Keep your trousers on.
SIMMONS: [genuinely upset] You’ve pushed me too far! I won’t use a safety word this time...
SUE-ELLEN: [interrupts hastily] Anyway, moving on – let me know when you have results. And make it soon.
[Gunther drags the Doctor out of the room and Sue-Ellen follows.]
DOCTOR: Yeah, we’re nearly halfway through the episode by now!
Scene 17 – Exhibit Room
[It’s just like the museum set except there’s no TARDIS, the lights are on and the displays are twice as rubbish. Rose is bored out of her skull. Adam is proudly and excitedly showing off a rather unimpressive piece of scorched metal.]
ADAM: Now, this may look like a rather unimpressive piece of scorched metal, but this is alien technology!
ROSE: Yeah, but what is it?
ADAM: This? Well, I’m pretty certain it’s from the hull of a spaceship. Just think, Rose, a spaceship! You can touch it if you like...
ROSE: That’s okay. I’m sure it feels like all the other unimpressive pieces of scorched metal.
ADAM: Hmm? Oh, right. Yeah, that’s what I was talking about. Sure. Still, think about it. An alien race! Something we can’t even dream of – and I have some pretty wild dreams, I can tell you – they made this rather unimpressive piece of scorched metal! Before it got scorched, of course. And it was not quite as unimpressive when they use it to travel to the stars, distant planets, new civilizations... going boldly where no one had ever gone before... touched infinity... fondled the unknown... admired dusky pink areolas...
[He realizes he’s ogling Rose’s tits once more and snaps out of it.]
ADAM: I know I must have seen better on the internet, but by god you’re hot! [with no genuine modesty whatsoever] No doubt on your amazing and canonical travels, you’ve seen better than me...
ROSE: Yeah. I mean, it’s just that... it’s still just a bit of metal, isn’t it?
ADAM: Eh?? Oh, for crying out loud! Pay attention, Rose, there’s a conversation that’s move on from rather unimpressive pieces of scorched metal...
ROSE: Really? But, I mean, to these aliens, this rather unimpressive piece of scorched metal would be as common as... a tin can, probably. Made out of unimpressive scorched metal.
ADAM: You don’t know that. They’re aliens. They might have no concept of worth whatsoever.
[Rose turns to another glass case; it holds inside a long cylindrical tube. Adam mutters under his breath.]
ADAM: Not unlike yourself. [louder] So, Rose, tell me honestly... do you dye all your body hair?
ROSE: I mean, what’s this supposed to be? Some alien egg whisk?
ADAM: Maybe! Who cares? It’s still alien! This is the greatest collection that mankind has ever assembled! I know that because we personally went around and smashed all the others! And yes, I know that to you miss high-and-mighty time traveler, striding about the cosmos and flaunting your cleavage to the universe, it might be a random gathering of interstellar crap, but I grew up here! Well, not here, but places like here. Always in bases like this, offices. With a corporation to inherit, knowing exactly what I will end up doing with my life...
[Weeping with very unconvincing emotion, he looks fondly at the tube.]
ADAM: This... was just a little bit... of... magic...
[He bursts into tears and throws himself into Rose’s arms, surreptitiously copping a feel as he does so. Rose’s attention is still on the tube in the glass case.]
ROSE: Yeah, but is it an egg whisk or not?
[Adam growls and straightens up, annoyed and not even pretending to be heartbreakingly pathetic.]
ADAM: What does it matter? It’s not going to hurt you! It’s harmless. Well. Mostly harmless.
ROSE: And the alien in the vaults? Is that harmless?
ADAM: [rolling his eyes] What alien?
ROSE: The one in the basement, doing all the screaming.
ADAM: “Screaming”? Ridiculous. I told you, we preserve alien technology, honour them... and if you think I’d waste my time up here with old tin cans and egg whisks if there was a genuine alien on the premises, you’re IQ isn’t even in the same digits as your bra size! Now, you were sent off me to keep you out of the way so we might as well get down to some serious shagging if you’re not interested in my space debris.
ROSE: What if it’s you? What if I was sent off with you to keep you out of the way?
ADAM: Mmm. Could work. You look like you could keep me out of the way all night... [coughs] well, till about ten past nine at least...
ROSE: You’re the one being kept in the dark.
ADAM: Oh, right, that does it, I’ve had enough of this.
[He grabs her hand and leads her towards a lift.]
ROSE: Where are we going?
ADAM: [impressively] To show you something truly alien... and then back to my place for a quick bonk and some munchies.
Scene 18 – Dustbin Cell
[Simmons stands in front of the Dustbin.]
SIMMONS: You deceitful asshole! You can talk! And to think, I loved you! Right, well, you know what these means, don’t we? Yes, it’s time for nourishing chunks of marrowbone jelly in a meaty sauce of goodness... knows... what.
[He snatches up a can of whichever dog food is sponsoring the episode and strides up to the plinth.]
SIMMONS: Why do you make me hurt you? If I didn’t get my rocks off doing it, this relationship would be over!
[He turns the can over and empties it into the hole in the Dustbin casing. Through another break, a tentacle snakes out and reaches up behind Simmons, who doesn’t see it as he is busy lighting a match and throwing it into Dustbin.]
SIMMONS: How do you like that, you double-dealing trashcan bastard?
[The tentacle suddenly lashes out, wraps itself around the dog food can and wrenches it from Simmons’ hand. Holding it right in front of his eyes, the tentacle crushes the can and throws it away. Simmons grins.]
SIMMONS: Oh, now that is stimulating, isn’t it, binny? Well, if you’ve got some resolve left I’m going to have to beat it out of you. With bamboo shoots. Unless of course you’re going to talk to me so...
DUSTBIN: And-what-would-you-have-me-say... big-boy?
[Simmons stands back, shocked and ever so slightly aroused.]
Scene 19 – Office
[Gunther sits at the desk, doing sudoku. Sue-Ellen is perched on the desk, trying to look available. The Doctor is pacing up and down, urgent yet bored out of his mind. Such a complex character.]
DOCTOR: All right, you stupid and very possibly suicidal idiots, from the top. It’s called a Dustbin, it’s from the planet Fargo, it’s a mutant that’s encased itself in battle armor, it lives only to clean, and to tidy.
SUE-ELLEN: I hope you’re getting all this down, Gunther.
GUNTHER: [lying through his teeth] Yes, madam.
DOCTOR: Listen to me! If you don’t destroy it, it will clean you to death. It’s really that simple, which is why the concept is so popular with children, adults and disturbed adolescents everywhere.
GUNTHER: Destroy it? Do you know how much that thing cost?
DOCTOR: 25 human souls per episode to the Estate of Terry Nation?
GUNTHER: [impressed] Wow. Good guess.
SUE-ELLEN: This so-called Dustbin has been safe for over fifty years. Hardly even batted its squeegee thing. Why should it be a threat now?
DOCTOR: [quietly] Because I’m here. And otherwise, there wouldn’t be much of a story, would there?
GUNTHER: Perhaps you overrate your importance to the ongoing franchise?
DOCTOR: Oi. Remember what Madam Bitch said about independent thought? Shut it! Now, do you two have any idea how much pride Dustbins take in cleaning the cosmos free of dirt? Now how could a creature with that kind of obsessive compulsive disorder survive all these years surrounded by littering tosser wankers like you? Well, if I’m right, and I usually am cause it saves time, it must have coped by cutting itself from any feelings whatsoever!
SUE-ELLEN: For Christ’s sake, it’s just an alien trashcan! An interesting one, I concede...
DOCTOR: And it’s going to get even more interesting now you’ve made me wake it up by reenacting a Big Finish cliffhanger! It’s going to be grouchy, confused, angry and probably quite mad that it’s been molested by a dirty old man for the last couple of decades! Congratulations!
[Sue-Ellen is shaken by this incredibly dark and gritty acting style. She turns to Gunther, who hides his sudoku.]
SUE-ELLEN: Show him.
GUNTHER: Huh? Show him? Show him what? Oh, right. Er, Is that wise...?
SUE-ELLEN: What harm can it do, exactly?
DOCTOR: Is that your family motto or something? Coz it’s going to be on your gravestone at this rate...
SUE-ELLEN: Gravestone? My ass!
DOCTOR: [shrugs] Okay, it’s going to be on your arse...
Scene 20 – Museum
[The lift doors open and Adam storms out, dragging Rose behind him as they pass glass case after glass case.]
ADAM: There’s only one lift to the lower vaults. Most people here don’t even know there are lower vaults. And I’m not supposed to know either, if I’m honest. The point is, I’ve got my fingers on the pulse. The chances of there being something down here that I don’t know about are so infinitesimally small that...
[He pauses as they pass the blue police box in the corner.]
ADAM: Oh, well done. Is that the real TARDIS?
ROSE: [impressively] Yeah.
ADAM: Thank god for that, I thought we’d bought another shoddy police box from Devious Dan and his Homemade Policeman’s Booth Emporium. He sees us alien collectors coming a mile off, that bloke.
ROSE: Are we going to see the screaming alien or not?
ADAM: Yes! Yes! Eventually! [long pause] Now-ish.
[They head off again. Then stop and head off in the correct direction.]
Scene 21 – Dustbin Cell
[Simmons stands before the Dustbins as the tentacle twists and turns erotically before his face.]
SIMMONS: So? I was just encouraging you...
DUSTBIN: And-you-enjoyed-it. You-sick-fucker.
SIMMONS: Oh, so I’m the bad guy now am I? Would you have preferred someone who didn’t enjoy it? Is that it? You like being ritualistically skinned alive and buggered by those whose hearts aren’t in it 110%?!
DUSTBIN: We-are-the-same-you-and-I. Except-I-am-not-completely-bat-shit-deranged.
SIMMONS: Aren’t you? How unlucky. Didn’t you like it even once?
SIMMONS: But now you can talk, our relationship can reach new heights of ecstasy... and depths of depravity. I want to know about you, and degrade you humiliatingly. We can be friends who flog each other in latex masks...
DUSTBIN: Wait-a-minute. You-wish-to-understand-the-Dustbins?
SIMMONS: Yeah, whatever. Basically just something to talk about in between...
[The tentacle hisses and it opens, like a mouth, and gives a high-pitched whine. Simmons takes a few steps back, excited.]
SIMMONS: How Freudian... I like where this is going.
[Then, with great speed, the tentacle stabs down at his neck.]
SIMMONS: [convulsing] OH! Tell me that you love me when you do that...
Scene 22 – ET Fairfax’s Room
[Wolff is spray-painting her tag on the wall, but hastily pretends to be standing to attention as the door open and Sue-Ellen strides in acting like she owns the place which indeed she probably does. The Doctor and Gunther follow her.]
SUE-ELLEN: He’d spend hours down there, trying to talk to it.
DOCTOR: Um... what are we taking about again?
SUE-ELLEN: My husband, ET Fairfax. And the Dustbin.
DOCTOR: Hang about, are you saying your husband spent his free time talking to an alien litter bin?
SUE-ELLEN: [nods sadly] He spent less and less time running the company... less and less time with me.
DOCTOR: Smart fella.
[Sue-Ellen crosses to the coffin and pulls back the cover to reveal ET Fairfax. He’s lost his looks, he’s overweight, his hair has fallen out, and his flesh has turned green-brown and slimy. His eyes are closed, his nose is just a bump and his mouth a toothless slit but apart from that, it’s mutated beyond recognition. His right arm has transformed into a tentacle with a three long claws on the end, holding a free plastic toy. The coffin is full of burger packaging and the Doctor cannot help recoiling.]
DOCTOR: Oh, god, I can’t stand McDonalds...
WOLFF: We try to keep him comfortable.
DOCTOR: In an upright coffin full of crap? How exactly do you keep him comfortable?
WOLFF: [thrown] Well... I try to keep his temperature down. Mind you, sometimes I keep it up, just see if it makes any difference. And we keep Lenny Kravitz playing just the way he asked.
[The Doctor stares at her.]
DOCTOR: You’re an idiot. Which means you’ll probably go far in this organization. So, when was he attacked?
DOCTOR: When was he attacked?
DOCTOR: I thought you were a wolf, not a parrot. Look, do you think people turn into slime beasts like this by accident? It was deliberate! Haven’t you noticed the mutation stems from the neck, which is also where the mutation is the heaviest?
[Sue-Ellen and Wolff stare at him.]
DOCTOR: No. Course not. Why am I surprised? [slowly] When... did this... start?
SUE-ELLEN: About two months ago? The guards found him on the floor of the cell. He’d begun sleeping there, just so he’d always be close to it.
DOCTOR: Total sad-act, knew it. So why did you lock him in a coffin and force Happy Meals down his throat?
GUNTHER: The company would collapse if our investors thought Mr. Fairfax had become... well...
DOCTOR: A monster? Yeah, mustn’t threaten your investments. You know, it might be best if I just leave and let natural selection get rid of you losers once and for all. Darwinism in action. [to Wolff] Right, you, dog woman. We’ll need a blood sample, quickly. Into the neck, get at its source...
DOCTOR: Oh, wake up lady. It’s hardly nastier than nailing him into a coffin for two months and super-sizing him every day, is it? Honestly, how are we going to know what we’re dealing with without a blood sample? You fuckwits haven’t even tried to find out what’s wrong with him, have you?!
SUE-ELLEN: Well, actually, we were going to take a blood sample! Right now, in fact! Weren’t we, Gunther?
GUNTHER: Oh, yes indeed, madam.
SUE-ELLEN: Exactly. [to Wolff] Go on then.
[Wolf picks up a hypodermic needle, clearly having no idea how to use it. Finally, she throws it as if playing darts and it jabs into ET Fairfax’s neck. As she moves to pull the needle out, ET’s mutated claw reaches out and grabs her wrist – but his eyes are shut and he still seems unconscious. Wolff cries out like a girl.]
WOLFF: Help me! He’s breaking my arm...
SUE-ELLEN: You heard the woman, Gunther. Help her.
GUNTHER: [unenthusiastic] Um, OK...
[Gunther crosses to help, but is bitch-slapped to the floor by ET’s other, non-mutated arm. Rolling his eyes, the Doctor crosses over and snatches the hypodermic out of ET’s neck and the mutant’s arms fall to his sides, limp and releasing Wolff, who promptly falls on top of Gunther. The Doctor looks at the blood sample rather than at the other people in the scene. The blood is thick, green and smoke is rising from it.]
DOCTOR: [fascinated] Not so much royal blue, but UFO green. It’s hot, too... You all right, dog woman?
WOLFF: I think so...
DOCTOR: I didn’t actually care, I was just being polite. But since you are OK, get off your backside and get this unspeakable foulness analyzed.
[He grabs Wolff by the scruff of her neck, gets her upright and hands her the hypodermic while shoving her towards the exit, past Sue-Ellen and ET.]
DOCTOR: Come on! Ándale, ándale, arriba!
Scene 23 – Outside the Dustbin Cell
[Baywater is sitting outside the cell, resting his chin in his hands and staring into the distance. Briggs is scratching “JUSTYCE WILL BE SERVED” on the cell door with a penknife.]
BAYWATER: Did you notice anything odd about Simmons, Briggsy?
BRIGGS: Non-executive potential. Species type incompatible. Consultation with the workforce is standard procedure. All suggestions are noted.
BAYWATER: The way he suddenly strode out of the cell, all bug-eyed and zombie-like and walking like he had a cactus rammed up his arse... I mean, there was nothing unusual in that, I grant you, but normally he sings Peaches after sexually molesting an alien lifeform.
BRIGGS: I met Nicholas Chauvin once. Pleasant enough fellow. Not a pink hair on his head.
BAYWATER: You don’t think that maybe he’s somehow been taken over by that unearthly creature of lies in exactly the same way that happened to ET Fairfax?
BRIGGS: The more I think about... I’m sure my name’s Ebenezer!
BAYWATER: [shakes head wearily] Never mind, Briggs.
[Adam approaches, still dragging Rose behind him.]
BAYWATER: Oh, great, all my Christmases have come at once. [to Adam] Hold it right there, wankstain – you have no clearance to be there.
ADAM: No clearance?! I have level three access!
BAYWATER: There’s no such thing as “level three access”!
ADAM: Do you know who I am???
BAYWATER: [slowly] Yes. Yes I do.
ADAM: [boldly] Do you want to take it up with my mother? Do you even want to talk to her?
BYWATER: [sighs] Good point, well made. So... what, you want to go in there?
ADAM: Of course – there’s nothing like proving an alien entity doesn’t exist to get chicks in the mood.
BRIGGS: You know, there's something reassuringly simple about a monster that wants to just blast you into oblivion. Things get needlessly complicated and sordid when it wants to bribe you into a change of lifestyle.
ADAM: [stares at him] Riiiiiiiiiiight. And that means?
BAYWATER: He says, “You do understand that if you have any trouble, we’re not authorized to go in there and save your impetuous lives no matter who the hell you are and in fact we’ll take great amusement in your death throes.”
ROSE: Well, why didn’t he just say that then?
BAYWATER: Look at him!
BAYWATER: He’s not normal, is he?? [opens the door] Oh well, in you go. Don’t let the Dustbin bite.
[Rose enters the cell, but pauses on the threshold.]
ROSE: You know, I suddenly get the weirdest feeling of déjà vu...
ADAM: Whatever. Come on...
Scene 24 – Dustbin Cell
[The glass tube has closed around the Dustbin, but that now-I-come-to-think-about-it-completely-pointless shutter is not up, so Rose and Adam can see it clearly as they enter.]
ADAM: ...let’s prove there’s nothing in here and go back to my place for some oh my god it’s an alien. [awed] A real alien! [slightly less awed] That looks like a waste paper bin. [not very awed at all] A really crappy, rusty and smashed waste paper bin. [brightly] But it’s still alien!
ROSE: See, I told you.
ADAM: Fine, play the blame game. You were right, I was wrong, you get to sing the “I Am Right” song. There’s an alien here, so what? The Adult Channel’s screening Debbie Does Donkeytown in... [checks watch] fifteen minutes. We can get the edible contraceptives nice and hot by then, if leave now...
ROSE: I thought you were into aliens! Here’s a real, live one right in front of you!
ADAM: Admittedly. But look at it! It’s complete crap! It’s all used and soiled and broken...
ROSE: Well, that’s because they’ve been torturing it! It was screaming last time I was here.
ADAM: Don’t jump to conclusions! It might be autistic or something, just letting off steam. And, anyway, I mean, now you come to mention it, those torture devices lining this very cell... but... I’m sure they must have had their reasons...
ROSE: Reasons? Look at him!
ADAM: [checks watch] I’d much rather look at Debbie doing donkeys, if I’m honest...
[Rose ignores him and approaches the still, silent Dustbin. Then, with shocking speed the domed head swivels so the LITTER sign faces her.]
ROSE: Uh... hello? [slowly and loudly] Can you hear me?
DUSTBIN: Yes. I-can-hear-you. I’m-not-subnormal.
ROSE: Are you... are you in pain?
DUSTBIN: ...yes. I-am-in-pain. What-gave-it-away?
[Sarcasm is a closed book to Rose, who smiles like an idiot.]
ROSE: Those screams earlier on. The Doctor and I can help you... well, as long as you’re not evil like all the other aliens we tend to meet...
DUSTBIN: Let-me-get-this-straight. You-belong-to-the-Doctor?
ROSE: I’m his friend...
DUSTBIN: His-standards-really-have-dropped... Wait-an-ethnic-cleansing-minute! He-has-ordered-you-to-destroy-me! Hasn’t-he?!
ROSE: My name’s Rose Tyler. What’s... what’s your name?
DUSTBIN: [bored] Look-do-you-want-to-help-me-Rose-Tyler?
DUSTBIN: Shut-off-the-power. It-burns-me. I’m-getting-a-rash...
[Cheerfully Rose crosses to the controls and stares at a great big red threatening button which must never, ever, ever be pressed before reaching out to press it.]
ADAM: Rose, please, we can realize the strange garbage bin monster after a whipped cream orgy, surely?
ROSE: Don’t call me Shirley!
[She snaps down the button and the glass tube slides up.]
DUSTBIN: Wow. That-was-easy.
ADAM: You know, thinking this scenario through, I’m beginning to think we best run away screaming now.
DUSTBIN: Come-closer-Rose-Tyler. Let-me-look-at-you.
[Rose steps forward boldly. A long pause]