At the mention of their shapes, the reminder of what he currently is, Peter shudders. Gee, thanks, TARDIS. He's pretty sure he's over the urge to panic about it, but only by dint of distraction. It's just a dream, he reminds himself, shoving down the feeling of revulsion.

"Aren't you supposed to be able to control this?" he asks, irritated at her high and mighty attitude.