Oh, it figured that of all the people to run into right now, it would be someone who was more keen on giving him a lecture about being safe and not doing stupid things, even as she helped him get along to the clinic. Luckily for him, he was having a bit of trouble keeping his senses from swimming away from him, a thing that would only impede their progress along the corridors. Doing that was requiring some effort, which meant his attention was a bit divided.

Of course when everything was resolved and over with, he'd remember to thank her, but being tossed at an exam table was hardly indicative of a good bedside manner. He didn't quite make it on top of the thing, if that was the plan, falling heavily against it instead and using it to prop himself up.

"Of course, that was always the plan," he said, not quite glaring daggers at her, but not appearing amused either. "Because encountering a man with a pickaxe was at the very top of my list of priorities today."

Stopping his rather clumsy efforts to remain standing (exam tables aren't the best things to rely on for support), he glanced around them. "Martha Jones! She's going to be a doctor, and this is a clinic. Where is she? She should be here." He'd look for her himself, of course, but letting go of the exam table could possibly mean landing on his face, which was not a particularly desirable outcome.