|The Doctor [Ten] always brings a banana to a party (dontwanttogo) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2014-06-06 20:32:00
|Entry tags:||the doctor (10)|
Who: The Doctor (Open)
What: Tinkering and thinking
Where: The TARDIS
The Doctor frowned as he adjusted the settings on his magic scanner. It went ping. “No, that’s not right.” He muttered to himself, as his screwdriver whirred in his hand, adjusting the polarity. Something clicked, and he stepped back, surveying his handy work. It still needed testing, but he could figure that out later.
“Is it finished, Master?”
“For now, K-9. It needs testing.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But, we’ll find volunteers tomorrow.” But for now, he needed a break. He needed tea.
As he left the lab, he locked it behind him. Not wanting anyone to accidentally mess with the settings. Sometimes, humans just got too nosey for their own goods. And there were a lot of humans on the TARDIS nowadays. More than he, or she were used to. And not ones that he’d chosen. Ones that had been chosen by those he called friend and companion. It was strange. Although, he’d admit, he quite liked Jack’s choice, Becker. He was a good man, even if he did have a weird obsession with guns. As for Martha’s, he didn’t know Tony as well. But, what he had seen, he approved of. But, he understood why he was more aloof. And then there was Rose’s Guy. He didn’t like Guy. He never seemed to smile, well not when he was around. And while the Doctor assumed it was because of what had happened when he was previously there. Well, the Doctor himself didn’t remember any of it. Actually, was quite glad he didn’t. If he did, he suspected he would have hated Guy even more intensely. As it was, he just didn’t like him.
He shook the thoughts out of his head, as he poured his tea. And then, lifted the mug to his nose, and breathed in the scent. The wonderful scent of tannins, the thing that had awoken him from the slumber that his last regeneration had caused. He sat down at the table in the kitchen, cradling the warm mug in his hand. Wondering for the umpteenth time, what he was doing here. He hated the slow path.