While they fall into an easy rhythm chatting, the Doctor busies himself in the kitchen. It's still easy to hear Tom, and he's sure to pitch his voice up enough to be easily hear in return.

This response, though, is slightly more delayed than some of his usual quips. He has a canned reply ready to go, the wiring's just a little slow, like it's on the fritz, like Tom asking at all has sparked a brief short circuit. So, he pauses a few seconds, a pan clatters a bit on the stove as he mumbles under his breath about toast and tea.

Finally, and with his usual ebullience as he turns to smile back at him: "Oh, I don't hide them, they're just tucked away, perfectly safe where they won't get lost or run off and I know exactly where they are! Joy's always around, of course, anger's in a shoebox in the closet, fear is a dust mite under the floorboards — you understand."

It's strange, though, what he can feel from Tom through their joined string, and what he imagines Tom can feel in return, despite his best efforts.

"'Course, sometimes I pull every feeling out all at once for a game of blind man's bluff." Another pause, and then, "How do you like your tea, Tom?"