It's so fortunate that Daine is here and knows just what to do to help the Doctor. She'd be quite useless on her own, Calliope fancies, though of course she will do her best for him now, whatever it is one can do to ease an ill person's discomfort. Getting into bed is apparently the first step in this mysterious process.

She smiles gratefully and nods at his reassurance and Daine's, but it's hardly her they ought to be fussing about. "Off to bed you pop then," she chirps with a dash of bravado hiding her worry, moving to check the room behind him for any such things while Daine helps him to his feet.

Well, there certainly is a perfectly cozy looking bed. And a handful of chairs and a desk all scooted up to the walls. And while fancifully arranged furniture is nothing unusual in the TARDIS, the sticky goo barely recognizable as his familiar chalk scribbles slowly dripping from the walls does strike her as quite odd. The same sort of vaguely foreboding oddness as the ghostly bell and the ceiling doors, in fact. "Um," she starts hesitantly, not sure if the Doctor ought to even be bothered with any queerness in his delicate state. Though he's likely to encounter it sooner or later, so better to prepare him. "I do not mean to alarm you, but..." She trails off, unable for the moment to describe just what she's seeing.