Donna's head twisted violently in his direction when he said she wasn't the Master's type. Inwardly, she might doubt she was anyone's type. She was too loud and brash and empty-headed, no matter how much she might have tried to grow since seeing him last. She knew that. But she also knew she'd never let on that she understood how undesirable she was. "What d'you mean, not his type?"

She drew her chin up haughtily. "And yeah. I can take him." She hadn't met him, but Donna had never met anyone she couldn't take.