Eva doesn't know if she has the wherewithal to think up anything good. She feels as if her brain's a tangle of wires, some plugged in and some not, some whipping around and some pooling dead at the base of her skull. It's a feeling she's been getting used to over the last few weeks, since the sarcophagus robbed her of what little mental stability she had left. Still, just because her own thoughts are racing and disjointed doesn't mean she'll abandon the golden opportunity to plan.

Her body is mostly fine these days. After the punishment the worshipers received, no one's eager to attempt to assassinate her again or even be caught looking like it, so she's mostly avoided the torture. Her lower lip is hamburger meat, but that's her own damn fault for biting it so much. It's her mind that's the problem, but even knotted and pulsing it's a good mind for organizing. She's always had that. God willing, she always will.

She glances around at her compatriots, scattered across a spectrum of friend and foe, stable and broken. Resources. Each of them can be used - no, each of them has something to contribute. Jamie and Vala's bravery, the Doctor's knowledge, even the Master's snakelike ruthlessness that Eva finds, admittedly, so familiar and admirable. Eva laces her fingers together.

"So. Anyone got any bright ideas?"