Martha made it to the wardrobe--again, much more open, this TARDIS space, she rather liked it--and began rummaging around for something to wear to the beach. A maxi dress, perhaps, that would be suitable, and some sandals, and a wrap because knowing the Doctor, things would probably end up not being what was expected.

"I'm glad you're not stuck," she called back. "Wait, a minotaur? Was this some sort of misguided metaphor for Crete, or...or are you not able to tell me because of spoilers?" That was going to get a bit awkward. "My parents're fine. Still back together, shockingly, though they do occasionally have huge blowouts. And Tris is doing well, just started a contract with the BBC."