What happened

on the curb.
in alleys.
on trash cans.
in the park.
on the street.
in subtle places, where the eye lingers to.

the words are bold and in chalk mostly, but they clearly read: BAD WOLF

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Harley paced back and forth in front of a small shop. On one hand she really wanted those dresses in the window. On the other hand there wasn't really anyone here to help her out in getting them so she'd be all on her own.

"They sure would look awfully pretty on me though" She said aloud. She got a few stares from people, she grinned as a blonde girl stared at her. She wasn't sure if the stares were due to her outfit or due to her talking aloud to herself.

She spun around and the bells on her hat jingled as she landed down on her hands. She paced that way for a while. A random suited man tossed a few quarters at her.

"Hey! I ain't no act!" She shouted back, pocketing the dollars none the less.

"I sure do wish I had someone other than myself to talk to," She said sighing. She flipped back to her feet and plopped down into a nearby bench.

[OOC: Sorry for not being active, I caught the EMO bug and have been hiding from the world mostly.]

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"....And you know what?," he told her, feeling evey cell in his body catch fire and, just for a moment, letting him love that look of sorrow she displayed. He liked to think it was for him. Of course it was for him. "So was I!"

It was all fire by then, both agonizing and revitalizing, he could feel himself melt away, particle by particle, bit by bit and at once die and be reborn. It shot through his throat from his toes, causing his body to jerk up, eyes shut and...

... and open with entirely unexpected feeling. All that heat, all that light was gone and it shouldn't have been that way. He should have felt like he'd just come from a steam bath. At least when it went right that's the way it went. So, something had gone wrong.

He swallowed and found everything in place in his throat. He turned around and found a large storefront window displayed with furniture instead of the TARDIS or Rose. And the reflection in the glass was all too familiar. Jaw slightly agape, he walked towards it in rugged shoes, staring at what he saw. A passerby stopped and looked at the stranger, slightly curious and slightly worried.

"You okay, mister?," he asked, ready to jump and run away at a moment's notice should he be, in fact, not okay and want some sort of help.

"Yehh.. yes," he said in familiar tones of surprise, staring at the last reflection he left before the regeneration. A face he wasn't supposed to have anymore. "I've just never seen a sale like this on end tables."

He touched at the short clipped dark hair, the angular nose, the sharp chin, all of it no longer colapsing by Time Itself. He patted his chest down, heard his hearts, felt his hands, all of it replaced right back where it was. The stranger has moved on, leaving the Doctor to turn slowly back to where he'd found himself. TARDISless. Alone.

"... Rose," he heard himself whisper before he'd realised he was saying anything at all.

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