Charley sighs happily into the hug, squeezing the Doctor back and nuzzling a little into his neck-- just for a brief moment. If it's odd to be having this conversation twice in one day, she's glad enough to see him that it doesn't really matter. She can't help but notice how warm he feels under his layers-- human warmth, or at least certainly not the faint chill of the Doctor she's grown accustomed to. It's peculiar, but perhaps not as much as it might be from one of the Doctors she knows better.

'I know,' she says a little ruefully. 'Neither did I. And--' She didn't say as much to the other Doctor, who'd seemed keen to talk about anything other than the more troublesome aspects of their shared past, and she's not entirely sure it quite counts with this not-quite-Doctor, but she feels she ought to say something. 'I am sorry. About leaving the way I did. It was-- well.'

It was many more things than well, but it's a hard thing to know how to put succinctly.

Horatio (and for once she's grateful for his apparent tendency to brazenly come out with things she's too polite to simply say) butts in before her truncated apology has the chance to get awkward. 'Where did you come from?' He seems to be addressing the question to Farranfore more than Andrew, little head cocked. 'The other Doctor was quite tight-lipped about the whole affair. And for that matter, what should we call you?'