Well, this is progress. Sheepish acquiescence is better than none, and she is somewhat mollified, the console ceasing most of its irritated blinking and whirring. She hasn't forgotten about his unfortunate discomfort with her visitors either and would have very much liked to spare everyone this confrontation, without giving up her own will, of course. Simply circumventing the Doctor's awareness of most of her activities is usually a solid strategy. But failing that, they should still be able to tolerate each other's wishes. It would be so disheartening if they couldn't at least manage that.

But before she can navigate a kind of compromise, he's already redirected his fretful disapproval once again, much to Rush's unease. She doesn't see anything secret about his affliction, but it's plain he doesn't want to share it with the Doctor in any detail, so she'd better step in before he can press her guest further. "I do this sometimes, when I come upon a particularly distressed mind. Humans are capable of vicious nightmares; I calm them." She doesn't need the Doctor's approval to be assured of her own actions, but still it comes out unintentionally questioning, searching, when she adds, "That is what we do, isn't it? We help."