She looks different. She looks good. Not that she doesn't always, to him, but this is something new. He gives her the once over from where he's been pulling his boots on, and then averts his eyes.

'Need t'get her to give me my proper clothes back,' he grumbles, but really only for something inane to say. He wears jeans on his days off back home. The rugby shirt is just insulting though, even though it is just all black.

Out in the corridor, he shoves his hands in his pockets, as if all this were normal.

'That what you wear in...2008?'

He cannot comprehend her being from any time other than the 80s. It's just wrong.