He knew he shouldn't really use the sonic screwdriver, not in front of thousands upon thousands of primitive humans. But he was going to do it anyway. Not so much because he had to save himself, because he still had to save Rose. And no one was going to stop him doing that.
"So, how d'you like being a model, then?"
He smiled at her. "I don't know. I haven't started yet.I'm a bit nervous."
" I know what you mean," Rose agreed.
"Fighting monsters, exploring moons, defeating evil - nothing compared with standing still for a few hours while some bloke chips away with a chisel," put in the Doctor.
There you go, being human again,' said the Doctor. He put an arm around Rose, and hugged her to him. 'It's not fair, is it, when we're forced into pitying someone we hate. Feels like the world's turned topsy-turvy. But it's all right. You're still allowed to hate them. As long as you don't gloat at their downfall, that's all.”
Rose wasn't ''ordinary''. What was I supposed to do? Wrap her in cotton wool? Tell her ''Here, I could give you the universe, but I'm not going to in case you get hurt? There's all this stuff out there, all these planets, all these wonders, but I want you to stay at home and work in a shop?''
The image of an Angel itself becomes an Angel, she whispered, hardly daring to say the words out loud. So if a Weeping Angel is filmed and shown on TV...
“I hate guns," replied the Doctor. "Which isn't to say that a bit of fantasy violence can't be therapeutic.”