During the Doctor's tirade, Cayce listened in silence, several responses presenting themselves, but none of them, she decided, seemed productive.

It was getting to her is what it was, all this faffing around and the fact that they'd opened one door only to discover yet another fucking mystery beyond it, and now the Time Lords acting like a bunch of children, and okay, maybe she'd been unfair to them, especially in light of what the Doctor had to say, but how the hell was she supposed to know that, not that it excused anyone, sure, but god damn it she wanted to go home, but she hadn't said goodbye to Crowley, but what if this was their only chance to get out, and where had Quixote fucked off to, and she was sick of the arguing and sick of the heat and sick of fucking Adam who probably could have waved his arm and held the door open so Psyche didn't have to stand there like a humanoid doorstop, and hell, he probably could have wiped the door down with an eyeblink, and right, absolute power bullshit whatever, but she was so tired so very tired...

At some point she sank down to the floor and sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her gaze fixed on the hole into the darkness.