Oh, Rassilon. She's going to have to stand here and watch him stew in his own righteous anger because she didn't come to him right away. As if the Time War had somehow repaired their relationship permanently, as if she was supposed to be glad she survived and swan off with him in some sort of reunited bliss.

"Well, I certainly don't have any objections to you sealing the universe off," she says, clinging to the thread of conversation that's easier to deal with. "My TARDIS is probably recovered from our little jaunt through the crack, so I'll just be on my way, shall I?"

Of course he's not going to let her get away with that, she knows, but she's nothing if not capable of running from her problems. And right now, there's few things she can think of that she'd rather face less than trying to piece together what's happened since the Time War with him. Better to be the bitch who turns and leaves without a word of explanation.