For so long death had been a golden dream, glimpsed through the diorama of Munch's eyelashes on a bridge in France Kasterborous. Today though, the Doctor knew it as a certainty, a calm passing of the tides in lives unbothered by a woman in blue and rainbows. Delighted by the train station crowds, the Doctor sat kicking on a railing, unfolding a kerchief. The sea of feet revealed the scrape-slide of tough tentacles, and she looked up to see a small squid launch happily at her face. It was her god-nephew Rupert… or as she called him, 'Death by Saliva'.