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The Tenth Doctor (

One could hardly blame the Doctor for being a bit unreceptive of the new design. He was tired and in pain and had just walked through the front door of his home to find it had been almost completely gutted and rebuilt without his permission or approval. He'd been rather fond of the coral. How often had he and Rose run across the floor grates like school children? How many times had he tossed his coat over the struts and flopped back into the jump seat after a long day of running? He'd taught his companions to fly the TARDIS using the coral theme. All of them together, Sarah Jane and Mickey and Jack, Donna, Martha, Rose ... Not Jackie, though. Definitely not Jackie. Oh, that would have been a disaster, Jackie at the controls.

He shook himself out of his memories and looked up at his successor, taking in his appearance for the first time in person. Could have been worse, he decided. It most definitely could have been worse. Oh, the bow tie was atrocious, and the tweed jacket positively screamed school librarian, but he was still built for running. Well, maybe. The Doctor couldn't help but think the first few hours of his next life were going to feel rather a lot like the first few hours of life for a horse, all legs and angles and confusion about which limb goes where. Especially with all that glass underfoot. It was a wonder the next him hadn't broken a leg!

That mental picture put the tenth Doctor somewhat in a better mood (granted, it was childish of him, and a bit mean, but what was he if not self-abusing?), and he found that he could take a moment to appreciate that yes, his ship did have rather decent taste. At least the color scheme was familiar. "Of course she's gorgeous. She's my- our TARDIS," he agreed in spite of himself.

"But I still like the coral," he added, somewhat sullenly, as the Doctor, the other Doctor, nudged him in the direction of the infirmary.

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