He’s restless, distracted. Could chalk it up to concern about the TARDIS, but there is something more, something slightly haunted, in his eyes. “Can you turn that dial there? About three quarters of a turn left, I’d say. No, wait, that’s not it…right at the end. Three quarters left, then one quarter right. And then push it in to lock…” The sonic screwdriver glows as he points it at the top of the device again, muttering softly. "Sort of...the draining thing."