"I work here, I'll have you know," she retorted into the darkness, tipping her chin up imperiously. All right, so she was a temp in the front office, and it wasn't as if she was anyone important, but it certainly gave her more right to be here than he had, whoever the hell he was.

Something about the light sparked a forgotten memory, but she couldn't quite place it. It wasn't a normal torch, that much was obvious, but it seemed familiar. But then he kept talking, and she disregarded that in favour of the bit that seemed far more important. "Mouthy?" she huffed indignantly, planting her hands on her hips. She'd been called worse, of course, but he was a complete stranger, as far as she could tell, and she wasn't going to stand around and be insulted by the likes of him. "I am not mouthy!"

(Except, of course, that she was; even her own mother said as much.)

The volume of her voice rose as she spoke - not a good idea when they were both trying to remain inconspicuous (as if Donna Noble ever succeeded at being inconspicuous) - and an ominous creaking noise came from the direction of the stage. Donna glanced over her shoulder. "Definitely just the boards settling or something, right?" She really hoped that it had a perfectly normal explanation.