Rory: No offence, Doctor...
The Doctor: Meaning the opposite.
Rory: ...but we could get a bus somewhere like this.
The Doctor: The exact opposite.
Alex: He's scared to death of everything.
The Doctor: Pantophobia.
The Doctor: That's what it's called. Pantophobia. Not fear of pants, though, if that's what you're thinking. It's a fear of everything, including pants, I suppose. In that case... sorry. Go on.
The Doctor: Great, reading's great. Bloke's stories, George? Yeah? Me, too. When I was your age, about, ooh, a thousand years ago, I loved a good bedtime story. "The Three Little Sontarans," "The Emperor Dalek's New Clothes." "Snow White and the Seven Keys to Doomsday," ay? All the classics.
The Doctor: I'm not just a professional, I'm the Doctor.
Alex: What's that supposed to mean?
The Doctor: It means I've come a long way to get here, Alex, a very long way. George sent a message, a distress call if you'd like. Whatever's inside that cupboard is so terrible, so powerful, that it amplified the fears of an ordinary little boy across all the barriers of time and space.
The Doctor: Through crimson stars and silent stars and tumbling nebulas like oceans set on fire. Through empires of glass and civilizations of pure thought and a whole, terrible, wonderful universe full of impossibilities. You see these eyes? They're old eyes, and one thing I can tell you, Alex: monsters are real.
Alex: You're not from Social Services, are you?
Rory: This is... weird.
Amy: Yeah, says the time-traveling nurse.
Rory: Why aren't there any lights? I miss lights. You don't miss things until they're gone, do you? It's like what my nan used to say, "You'll never miss the water until the well runs dry."
Rory: Except lights, I mean. Not--not water. Lights are great, aren't they? I mean, if this place was all lit up, we wouldn't be worried at all.
Amy: Panicking. A bit.
Rory: Yeah, yeah. Sorry.
Alex: We went into the cupboard. We went into the cupboard. How can it be bigger in here?
The Doctor: More common then you think, actually.
The Doctor: Look, wooden chicken. Cups, saucers, plates, knives, forks, fruit, chickens--all wood. So, we're either inside the dolls' house or this is a refuge for dirty posh people who eat wooden food. Or termites. Giant termites, trying to get on the property ladder. No, that's possible. Is that possible?
The Doctor: So, Claire can't have kids, and something responded to that. Responded to that need. What could do that?
Alex: I thought you were the expert, fighting monsters all day long. You tell me!
The Doctor: Oi, listen, mush! Old eyes, remember? I've been around the block a few times. More then a few. They've knocked down the blocks around there now, and rebuilt them as bigger blocks, super blocks! I've been round them as well, I can't remember everything!
Alex: Is he going to... I don't know, sprout another head or three eyes or something?
The Doctor: He's one of the Tenza, remember? He'll adapt perfectly now. Hey! Be whatever you want him to be. I might pop back around puberty, mind you. Always a funny time.