While the Doctor is getting changed, Melody tries to make up some semblance of a bed in the room. She has a worn-looking couch that'll at least be more comfortable than the floor, and she tries to arrange it so it looks more like a bed. She sets some cushions against one arm, and she drapes over a heavy woollen blanket. It's not a lot, but it's something, and the poor bastard clearly needs it.

When he steps on out of the bathroom, Melody is perched on the windowsill, looking out at the storm with a freshly lit cigarette delicately hanging from between two fingers. Her profile is little more than a shadow against the glass, and when the lightning crashes, it illuminates her form. She turns her head at the sound of footsteps, smiling just gently at the sight of him in those pyjamas.

"Much better," she tells him simply, then turning to look back out of the window, distracting herself with another drag of her cigarette, and him with the long, bare legs on display through the gap in her dressing gown.