Hmm. That could be arranged. "I'm going to move the TARDIS. Just, ah - don't gnaw on anything." The last was thrown away over a shoulder; if it were a real admonishment and not just a joke, the Doctor clearly wasn't concerned enough to hover.
At the center console, he was a flurry of activity. He flipped switches and spun dials until a strange, whooshing-screech noise filled the ship. This must have been normal, as the Doctor didn't seem concerned in the slightest. There was no real feeling of motion, no lurching, but the same strange noise announced that they'd arrived.
"All right. Into the grocer's." It wasn't a question, but it wasn't a command, either. The look that the Doctor turned on Hank was measuring. "Your nose is likely better than mine - you might pick up on the best of the meat."