River coughs and splutters, more than a few mouthfuls of foetid Thames water coming back up. She's bedraggled as a cat gone through the laundry, and about as pleased. She holds tightly to his arm as she tries to clear her airway, each choking cough less rough than the one before. When she can breathe again, she sighs, leaning heavily against him.

"Not as elegant an escape as -- I could hope for -- but -- effective..."

He'll notice she tucks the sonic screwdriver back in its holster at her waist.

"Now we really need a bath and a change of clothes."