So did the Doctor. The tighter the walls got, the more worried he became that he was wrong. But he couldn't be wrong, could he? There wasn't another explanation that would fit Rassilon's devious mind, was there?

Jack didn't like small places, and the Doctor was finding them less and less attractive as well. A wall pressed against his back and he stepped even further into Jack's space. There wasn't a lot of Jack-or-the-Doctor space, there was just limited space and them, crammed into it.

"I'm right," he said, firmly. "But on the very, very, very off chance that I'm not---" What? What would he say?