The Doctor laid opposite him on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't tell if Jack had fallen asleep, though he hoped he had. At least one of them should've been able to find rest among this. All of this.

After a time he moved from the bed and went to pick up the shattered teapot and tray. He looked at the pieces and thought that they couldn't really be any more metaphorical if they tried.

It was going to be a long night.