Well, the cure for terror and/or guilt and/or self-loathing, in his experience, is to go poke around somewhere you're not supposed to be.  He tosses his phone on the bed and heads out.  Let's see what else is in the TARDIS.

Another poke of affection.

"All right if I go exploring?"

Don't go down too deep.

"Mkay."

Well, he can poke his head into the other bedrooms down this hall, to start.

The one next to his also looks disarmingly normal, but less like a hotel room - dark wood floors and walls, softer amber-colored light.  A nice wardrobe; a false window on one wall.  It doesn't look lived-in, though; the bed's immaculate.

Maybe he'll relocate.

He looks through a couple other ones.

This one's got bright colors and a king-size bed.  This one's got bunk beds, and a squat dresser with an old-fashioned dials-and-rabbit-ears TV on top of it.  This one has a hammock.

So by dumb luck he picked the most boring bedroom in the whole TARDIS?  Wack.  He tries the next door.

It's Sarah Jane's room, and it's locked.

He pats the door handle once in acknowledgment.  "Sorry."

He turns around, heads up the spiral stairs to the kitchens.

Stovetops and pantrys and mysterious vats, just like before.

Let's take a look at those vats.  He's probably not gonna press any buttons - these things look big and heavy-duty and industrial, and that'd verge into actually-stupid territory.  But he's gonna take a look for sure.

Gosh, look at this enormous bank of buttons and dials and readouts and displays and little computer screens.  He can maybe make out references to environmental conditions inside the vat, and to different types of substances? chemicals? the vat is supposed to be drawing in from somewhere.  But nowhere near enough to understand exactly what they'd be doing.

He looks at the ceiling.  "Can you explain what this is at all?"

TARDISes are good at - feelings and sometimes situations - but they're not very good at explaining or teaching things, or big intricate ideas.  Sorry.

"It's okay, don't worry about it."

<3

He smiles a little.

Well, he bets the contents of the pantries and fridges are at least comprehensible enough to be interesting.  He scurries for the pantry-platform.

He will have seen some of this stuff already when he was making himself breakfast.  Plastic tubs of alien grains and alien cereals and alien white powders, looking just a little off to the left of rice or flour or oats.  Aluminum cans labeled with pictures of unrecognizable fruits and vegetables - something light blue with stubby wiggly little tentacles, something blood-red in clusters of differently-sized little balls like mutant raspberries, something blue and long and narrow and kind of stringy-looking.  Something that might not be a vegetable at all but actually some kind of edible pillbug.  Glass jars of unknowable pastes and preserves.  A resealable plastic bag, half empty, of something called "chimera jerky."

Are chimeras real?  That'd be weird.  What's in the fridges?

Meats!  Cheeses!  Ghostly white apples and yellow-orange berries!  Jars of things that are just labeled with the word "synthetic" and a number!  Translucent peach-colored fruit juice with a picture of the light blue fruit with the yellow wigglies on it again!

He tries a yellow-orange berry.

Yep that's an alien berry!  Tastes kind of - summery?  Is that anything?  Bryce doesn't know how to talk about food which is probably weird for someone who likes to cook.  Oh well.

Hopefully this stuff isn't toxic to humans.  Would the Doctor store it next to human food if it was?  Seems like a contamination risk.  Would it taste good if it was poisonous?  Maybe, he thinks antifreeze is supposed to be tasty.  Whatever, worst case scenario is he dies, which is gonna happen anyway.

Well alien food is interesting but he's pretty much seen the kitchen already.  What's deeper down?