"Safe?" he repeated even as he slipped his free hand into a pocket inside his coat and out came the sonic device. Its light glowed at one end while the noise it made, something like combining a purr with an electronic trill, was overridden by the Doctor chattering on: "The rooms are white. Boring. They should at least have psychic paint. The chips don't smell like Sangria like they did when made by aliens once on a far world. They seemed to get the flavours right but mixed up the scents."
He stopped scanning and all was quiet for a couple of seconds as he glanced at the screwdriver, cradling it in his palm. "Safe. Nothing toxic in your food, Shepard! At least we don't have to worry about translating a menu, do we?"