Donna froze, as motionless as the...the things that faced them. She wasn't sure they were still human, not without any spark of consciousness in their eyes. They looked more like bloody great puppets, marionettes hanging from strings. (She'd never liked puppets, not since she'd been terrified by a Punch and Judy show when she was just a toddler.)

"What's happened to them?" she whispered, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. She'd known several of them - not well, but their paths had crossed more than once, actors having a tendency to hang around the theatre and get underfoot even in their spare time. "They aren't them anymore, are they? They're all wrong."

"Is that what you were looking for?" Her eyes darted back to him for a moment before locking on the actors again; she didn't think he was dangerous (although she had no idea why she seemed so convinced of that fact, considering that she'd just met him sneaking about in a dark theatre), but the actors (former actors? actor-puppets?) definitely had an air of malice about them. "Not giant plague rats?"