InsaneJournal

Remy had returned from his little get-together with the Doctor-- His Doctor-- The.. tenth Doctor?-- about twenty minutes ago. He'd had some errands to run, swinging by the thrift store again and allowing Rose what he thought was more time to sleep. However, when he'd come back, he'd found a big-eared man and had immediately known, through Le Docteur's description, that this had to be L'Autre Docteur. With greetings out of the way, Remy had shoved one of the couches (that wasn't part of his huge bed) away from one of the opposite walls, and had pushed it to sit about three feet from the one couch that was helping hold his bed together. It made for a nice sitting place, with the Cajun on one couch, and L'Autre Docteur and Rose, on the other one. The red-head (though you couldn't tell, with all of his hair hidden beneath the black beanie) had been closely watching their interactions, but hadn't seen anything to indicate that Le Docteur was lying to him. These two seemed like they were very close friends. Amazing friends, really. But he hadn't seen anything particularly romantic. No signals. No kissing. No hand-holding. And the thought made him smile to himself.

You'd be stupid and paranoid, Cajun. The Doctor wouldn't have lied to you. Best friends, he'd said. He and Rose were best friends, that was all.

"So you been trav'lin' 'roun' space wit' 'dis guy?" Remy was prompting to Rose, a grin clear on his features. "In uh telephone box? Savin' worl's an' gettin' int' lor' know wha' kin'a trouble?" He laughed a little and shook his head. "Seem like my kin'a t'in'. You takin' applica'ions, Doct'r?" He had been amazed how easy it had been to fall into calling this man 'Doctor'. He'd never call him Docteur, though. L'Autre Docteur, sure. But there was only one Docteur for him.