[ There have been plenty of situation in the past when Hilda had simply taken that exact sort of response and breezed right by it without a second thought. After all, she gives the same sort of breezy, flippant response all the time in the hopes that people will do the same thing she would do. Sometimes it’s a kindness. Sometimes it just makes more sense to pretend that there’s nothing else hiding underneath the shiny, pretty picture being painted. Often times she just doesn’t want to be a bother.

But the Doctor makes the mistake of saying it to someone who’d had her own paint stripped back layer by layer. Who had been desperately holding onto it for dear life with broken nails and could maybe hazard a guess that that his version of, “fine just fine” is similar to hers. Her expression remains difficult to read as she sits there following the threads of deflection but never loosing the origins of it. She refuses to forget when he’s trying this hard. Even when the topic turns back to her.

It’s the appreciation in his gaze that makes finally makes her expression begin to soften bit by bit. It’s enough to make her relent and surprisingly enough, not bother with trying to dissuade him from this idea that she’s got many talents. ]

…I appreciate that, Doctor. Because those nights do happen every so often even though I’d rather they didn’t because they really cut into a girl’s beauty sleep. But - you have to promise me that you’ll lean on me too. I can’t say I’ll be especially happy if you wake me up but I guess I could make an exception for you.

[ After a moment her expression brightens. With one final squeeze she stands up, pulling him up to his feet. ]

Or right now because I’m really worried about that bruise. They probably have some ice up there right? How else are they going to keep all those meats cold?