Jamie, OTA - Late Thursday night/ Early Friday morning
The Doctor didn't sleep very often. When things were dire, he went without it even less. The only way he could tell that he needed rest was when his thoughts became so erratic that it almost felt like his mind would shutdown without his consent, then he would retire. He could rest like a human, but found it a waste of time. It was rather linear for his tastes.
Needless to say, he was ecstatic to have something to work on. He'd been at it for days now, mulling over books--and how he loved books. Pacing through the stacks, he paused over a particular passage in an old dusty tome when something--rather, someone--caught his attention from the corner of his bespectacled eyes. Was she doing exercises?
Turning to observe Jamie, brow arched, the Doctor considered continuing on, but he'd yet to speak this woman. Everyone there had something to contribute, and he was nothing if not fond of a new angle. Snapping the book shut, its pages had already been read rapidly by his keen eyes, he tucked it under his arm and meandered closer to her.
"Sorry to interrupt," he started politely (for once). "Just surprised to see people still here. Don't fancy a rest?"