I look at you every single day and I don’t understand a thing about you. Why do I keep running into you? I met you in the Dalek Asylum. There was a girl in a shipwreck and she died saving my life, and she was you. Victorian London. There was a governess who was really a barmaid, and we fought the Great Intelligence together. She died and it was my fault, and she was you. What are you, eh? Are you a trick, a trap?