The Doctor doesn't like the sound of being carried by any sassful talking animals, no matter how exotic a shape they choose to take. He returns Daine's assessing look disagreeably, then waves a hand her direction, incomprehensible and irritable. She may be a rude chatty beast but bed does sound rather nice at the moment, so despite herself she may have a point. "Help me up. I'll go quietly," he says, not entirely convincingly. He waves the hand with feverish yet unconcerned vigor. Have to put on a brave face for this handwringing troll child. "It's fine, Callie. I'm sure I won't be ill long at all," he says, still not convincingly.