For once the Doctor is inclined to agree with Daine, at least to some degree. 'Rift mischief' could encompass quite a variety of truly terrible things, he really doesn't think the average riftugee grasps the full scope of that potential 'mischief.' The rift could let in a sudden influx of monsters, parasites, a plague, or maybe just let out all the energy of the universe in one big draft like a leaky window extinguishing a candle flame. He looks shocked at Callie's suggestion, though it's very much more alarm at the morbidity of it than putting any stock in it. "What, have you been Googling symptoms? Well, never do that," he says, with an arcane, cautioning gesture. "The smarmy marmot is very likely on to something," he allows, begrudgingly. "Console room is probably a good place to start." The Doctor re-hitches his blanket-cape and trudges for the door, with noticeably less vigour than is typical.