He's relieved to receive a more reassuring echo, the levels of suspicion evidently dimming with his clarification. It's equally reassuring - though no less alarming - to be approached by a simulacrum both like and unlike his own, the physical rendering of a being for the purposes of communication.

"The TARDIS," his spectral form repeats, confusion briefly clearing. "I know you - I know of you. I don't think I've ever seen you."

He can feel her potential humming through every vibrating curve and circuit, knowledge and space made infinite in a form less suited to a human shape compared to his current form.

It's immense. He can't resist another dim pulse of reverent curiosity, though he keeps his atoms confined to where they are, doubtful she would appreciate him simply meandering throughout her interior unannounced.

"I'm sorry," says Daniel, again looking abashed. "I really didn't mean to just - float in. It's hard to control everything this way, like this." He opens his incorporeal hands to signify his current appearance.