Missy watched the Doctor pace in circles around her cage. "Start at the beginning. How do they get a foothold on a planet?" she directed.
"Some idiot asks for their help," the Doctor answered.
He was getting excited. If she was lucky . . . .
"Well, not just any idiot. It has to be a properly consenting human mind. A pure request, one without agenda or ulterior motive."
"It's them."
Yes! His feet came off the ground.
"That person creates a psychic link, which forms an anchor that keeps the Monks in power. They're the lynchpin," the Doctor continued.
Missy watched him float around her. So gentle. So easy. No resistance. Flying was second nature to him, as easy as walking. Missy felt so heavy on the piano. How did he do it?
"Scalding. Ow," Missy responded.
"But the brainwaves of one person wouldn't be powerful enough to contain an entire planet. The statues! As soon as they got here, the Monks put up statues in every town square, and every park, and every playground."
He didn't even move his arms or legs. Just floating smoothly in circles. Was it concentration? He wasn't concentrating at all; he was able to do it without thinking. Was it excitement? She had seen him float in his birdcage, totally relaxed.
"You're on fire, you're literally on fire you're so caliente. That's Spanish for hot."
"The statues are transmitters. They boost the signal and beam it out all around the world."
Confidence? The Doctor could be unbearably confident in himself. Confidence in himself or confidence in the air to hold him? He wasn't tense, his body completely relaxed. He had no fear, no doubt.
"Boom! You've exploded. Now, all you have to do is find whoever opened the door to the Monks in the first place."
"Say I already have."
What if it had nothing to do with the mind and was simply the air liked him better? Was the air alive? Was it a sentient being? Did he have a psychic link with the air?
"Oh! Well then, you're sorted. Just kill them. That weakens the Monks' grip on the world."
"No, no."
No, no, he landed!
"No, no, that can't be right," the Doctor continued, "There are planets that the Monks have ruled for thousands of years."
He was frightened, worried, uncertain, and he dropped out of the air. But she couldn't study how he flew if his feet were on the ground.
The Doctor snuck behind the decrepit Monk, slouched in its chair, hands resting on white columns and a metal circlet around its forehead. "Boo!" the Doctor shouted.
Bill and Nardole jumped, but the Monk was unresponsive.
"Not necessary," Nardole said.
The Doctor waved his hand in front of the Monk's face. He jumped into the air, flew in a loop over the Monk, and dove toward it, zooming past it. "Neeowwm!" he growled, pretending to be a plane, just enjoying being able to fly again. He flew in another, smaller loop to slow down and landed. "Okay, he's out. Let's do this."