He pulls the words apart and shuffles them back together the way a codebreaker might, looking for an anagram, a sequence, a key, something or anything that made sense of the world now that it was -

–still, silent and scrambled, how the hell had he not realized it before–

But it was only a dream. Just a –deep, deep breaths– stupid dream. Someone playing an unimaginative trick. Or a –pause in the game...–.... He trails the Doctor's gaze and finds his eyes on their –red trainers with maroon suit stripes, and you still don't match, you old fool– shoes.

He's about to get very, very angry, it's right there lurking in the corners, behind his ear like a bad magician's trick. "You're blathering and it is not rearranging my calm to your benefit."