Once again, she's rather got things by the wrong end, but he doesn't even get a chance to fail at correcting that, because suddenly the console is lit up like a particularly frenetic Christmas tree and the Cloister Bell is filling him with its familiar hearts-knocking dread. Experiencing this with the gulf of alienation between himself and the TARDIS is surreal, to say the least. He doesn't know what's going on, which is itself disturbing, and he doesn't know whether to start pressing buttons and swiveling things to find out or to ask the TARDIS herself. And so he scrambles inefficiently like a startled cat, determining that they are not under attack, that nothing is malfunctioning catastrophically, but what exactly is happening, he doesn't understand. The TARDIS' human form meanwhile is looking transfixed with alarm, outright bereft, and he grabs her by the arms, looking just as horrified. More deliberate telepathic contact flares into life, full of anxiety but wanting to help. "What? What's happened?"