"Michael. And you're right, some of them are. But most of them aren't, and until I know what the ratio's like, here, I think I'll play it safe."

He considered the chicken for a few moments, then their surroundings, then the Doctor, and finally, himself.

"I don't. Know a chicken wrangler, I mean. And generally, when you don't have anyone to go to, you've just got to fix the thing yourself. Since I'm trained to create ideal environments for certain conditions ... if you can keep it still like that for a little longer, I can find a place for it to live where it won't hurt anything. Or try to make one."

It had to be worth at least a few thousand points. Not that that was why he was doing it, of course.