WHO: The Eleventh Doctor, open to all the note recipients (and anyone else who may be lurking around in the shadows and/or interested in helping out) WHERE: The library WHEN: After lunch on July 14th, I think WHAT: The search for answers begins! WARNINGS: UMMM I'm honestly not sure yet.
They'd gathered at the library after lunch. The Doctor had waited outside, fez and all, until everyone had arrived, and then he'd ushered the last of the note recipients in to see the others.
They'd laid out all the notes and compared them, the prevailing theme appearing to be nasty drawings with rather disturbing words. They'd been found, respectively speaking, at the front desk of the library, on a pillowcase, on a nightstand, tucked into a jacket, and most disturbing of all, taped to a bathroom mirror.
And now they were leaning back around the table, trading theories.
The Doctor had managed to be uncharacteristically quiet as the rest of them spoke, right hand grabbing his left elbow and left hand resting against his chin. He hadn't commented on most of the theories mentioned yet, too focused on finding the pattern to listen to what everyone else was saying.
"Sorry," he said, interrupting someone else--he wasn't sure whom, he hadn't been paying attention. "Sorry, no, wait, could it be a warning?" He scrambled forward and spread the notes wide on the table, jabbing his fingers first at Elizabeth's note, then his own, and Sam's. "Look at these. 'Can't run', 'always watching', 'no'. That seems like a warning, to me. Like this.." And here, he pointed at his own note. "What if this is part of the warning? But I only know one man who looks like this, and he would definitely not be a thing to warn against. Anyone else?"