[She absorbs the blinks — it's an instinct, at this point, to watch body language, even if she's quit the job that requires it. But she doesn't know him well enough (yet) to know when he's covering something up. It seems as though more than his face changes, but the Doctor she knew always started talking faster and louder when he was trying to ignore something. Maybe that's something she can on. But for now, jammy dodgers.

Fortescue smiles at the addition of the coat, as she nibbles on her biscuits. It's certainly less weird than her blanket shawl.]

Thank you, love. You're a gentleman. Moved onto tweed, have you?

[The biscuits do taste like home. A bittersweet thing, at the moment, and maybe she spends too long looking at one while chewing on another.]

I'm fine. Really. [Oh, look, a cough. Thanks, body. She almost sighs.] ...Just some... lingering problems from a pair of enthusiastic thugs. A friend of mine healed the worst of it.