The sound of springs whining in protest was indication enough that she had chosen the more daring option, and from the sound of it, she was getting quite comfortable with that tatty old throw blanket he'd picked up in his third regeneration, back when he was earthbound and exiled from his own planet. It wasn't so very different a situation than what he found himself in now, only there was no exile, because there was no council to judge his meddling, no Gallifrey to long for. But those were melancholy thoughts, and they had no business interfering with the comfortable companionship that had settled between them.
The Doctor buried the memories, compartmentalized them and left them for another day. He was diligent in his task, cycling through thousands of film titles, after thinking better of it and narrowing down the options with a planet and date filter.
“We didn't have the time before,” he reminded her lightly, scrolling through the list. “Too much running, not enough relaxation,” and with a swift stab from a finger, he selected the film of choice and turned about for the couch where she sat. “Course, the time we could have spent in here, you were too busy wasting away the hours with all that sleeping,” he added dryly. The screen grew dark and the animation started its credits, when he decided, not with much thought, to move for one of the recliners.