So she's decided to put the Doctor and Nasreen on trial, meaning she's decided to kill them, while everybody else is asleep. The only one awake that isn't part of the all-girl bitch militia is the science guy ("Malohkeh," which is just so annoying, even with "Restac" beside it), but once Amy and Mo show up with their guns and are immediately disarmed (without anything but grinning approval from the formerly anti-gun lobbyist the Doctor) she says it's a military matter and he needs to get the fuck. He whines about how she's lost the way, blah blah, and after a bit of dominance-clarifying hisses, goes off to tattle to daddy, while the Doctor and Amy act cute about her failed rescue and the wonderful lizard-men.
"I didn't know it would go like that, Dad," says Ambrose, who now that she's been narratively cast into hell has become the queen of understatement. Mack hems and haws about how repulsive and ignorantly immoral his daughter is, and then randomly one of the fifty TVs the Doctor piled in the church last week pops on. It's Restac, asking for their leader. Now, I would say -- given first blood -- that should go to Ambrose, but since it's this show and Rory is the most able-bodied male, it goes to him by tacit vote. Ambrose covers up the dead lady, and Mack tells Rory not to squeal.
"I speak for the... Humans. Some of us, anyway." He admits he doesn't have a real great handle on what the lizards are all about -- and once again lets a moderately funny line fall flat -- but they don't care, and Restac shows him Amy and the other hostages. Mo yells that he's found Elliot, and Amy is a bitch to Rory for showing any concern at all -- "What, because I was sucked into the ground? You're so clingy" -- which normally wouldn't be a problem but it's hard not to see patterns when every single thing she says to him is like this.*
(Which is, I guess, analogous to the Doctor telling everybody to shut up all the time, and it's occurred to me lately maybe this is a transatlantic problem I'm having, and maybe all this rudeness is just that natural British way of expressing oneself that strikes American ears as incredibly coarse and childish. Nine times out of ten, if the American has any social clue at all, Brits come off about as polite and sensitive as Gregory House. Not really a question of quality or character, or an indictment either way -- because really, Americans are just ruder in general -- just a comparison to the way we speak to our families, versus a boss or a friends: A mode not of intent or malice, but simply of tone and word choice.)