[Donna sits on a stool in a steel cage, resting her chin on her hand and glaring at everyone within fifty yards. Her leg dangles uncomfortably, the cast making it impossible to rest anywhere. A sign outside the cage reads: "DONNA NOBLE: HUMAN-TIMELORD METACRISIS. THERE HAS NEVER BEEN ONE BEFORE! THERE WILL NEVER BE ONE AGAIN
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"Donna!"
He looked around, trying to figure out who was keeping her there.
"I can get you out of there," he said in a whisper, though he wasn't really sure about that.
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Or the words 'I can get you out of there.' THAT was exciting. She sat up straighter and looked at him.
"Well don't just say it!" she snapped. "Get to it!"
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