Status: Active
Respite
One
“Oh, Paris!” The Doctor allowed a grin to spread across his face as he saw the view on the screen. The TARDIS hadn’t followed his course, but at least he’d landed somewhere nice by accident this time. He hadn’t been to Paris since he was... in his fourth incarnation, if he remembered rightly. Although he had been to other parts of France since then, of course.
On his way out of the TARDIS he grabbed his coat. He swung the door open... And was faced with a courtyard. A frown spread across his features, and he walked back in to look at the scanner screen.
"That's definitely Paris on there..." He muttered to himself. He wasn't sure how long he'd developed the habit of talking to himself, but now was not the time to think about it. "Right, you," He addressed the TARDIS itself now. "Stop being stupid. I am clearly not on the Champ de Mars. I am not going to walk out there and see the Eiffel Tower." He grabbed the hammer, simply to hit the console in an attempt to get his point across.
The room was quiet after that, apart from the soft and constant groan of the ancient machinery. The Doctor sighed.
"Is there a reason I'm inside someone's house?" There was no reply, of course, because he was addressing a machine. That seemed to be enough for him, though, because he tugged his coat on and left.
He looked around the courtyard and spotted an open door, and as was oh so typical of him he set off towards that.
When the Doctor walked through the door he was greeted by a very bemused looking man. Said man had been in the process of shaving, and the razor had come to a stop just by his cheek. He looked as though he was in either is late thirties or his mid forties - slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth and deeper ones along his forehead, and hair going grey but in that oddly dignified manner that only men of status manage to achieve. But mostly what gave it away was his eyes. The Doctor knew how to spot a man who had seen too much. This man, his reflection blinking at him from the mirror, had eyes that were much older than the rest of him.
But he would enquire as to why at a later time.
"Hello!" The Doctor addressed the man brightly, with that trademark grin he so often used as his get out of jail free card.
"What are you doing in my house?"
"Oh, this is your house, is it? Your courtyard looks lovely, I must say."
"Sir, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave." The razor had ended up discarded in the sink by this point, and he had spun around to face the Doctor. "You're trespassing on my property and -"
"I am sorry," He cut him off. "I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm a bit... Lost, you see. I just sort of... Ended up here."
The man regarded his intruder with those ancient eyes, sizing him up.
On his way out of the TARDIS he grabbed his coat. He swung the door open... And was faced with a courtyard. A frown spread across his features, and he walked back in to look at the scanner screen.
"That's definitely Paris on there..." He muttered to himself. He wasn't sure how long he'd developed the habit of talking to himself, but now was not the time to think about it. "Right, you," He addressed the TARDIS itself now. "Stop being stupid. I am clearly not on the Champ de Mars. I am not going to walk out there and see the Eiffel Tower." He grabbed the hammer, simply to hit the console in an attempt to get his point across.
The room was quiet after that, apart from the soft and constant groan of the ancient machinery. The Doctor sighed.
"Is there a reason I'm inside someone's house?" There was no reply, of course, because he was addressing a machine. That seemed to be enough for him, though, because he tugged his coat on and left.
He looked around the courtyard and spotted an open door, and as was oh so typical of him he set off towards that.
When the Doctor walked through the door he was greeted by a very bemused looking man. Said man had been in the process of shaving, and the razor had come to a stop just by his cheek. He looked as though he was in either is late thirties or his mid forties - slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth and deeper ones along his forehead, and hair going grey but in that oddly dignified manner that only men of status manage to achieve. But mostly what gave it away was his eyes. The Doctor knew how to spot a man who had seen too much. This man, his reflection blinking at him from the mirror, had eyes that were much older than the rest of him.
But he would enquire as to why at a later time.
"Hello!" The Doctor addressed the man brightly, with that trademark grin he so often used as his get out of jail free card.
"What are you doing in my house?"
"Oh, this is your house, is it? Your courtyard looks lovely, I must say."
"Sir, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave." The razor had ended up discarded in the sink by this point, and he had spun around to face the Doctor. "You're trespassing on my property and -"
"I am sorry," He cut him off. "I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm a bit... Lost, you see. I just sort of... Ended up here."
The man regarded his intruder with those ancient eyes, sizing him up.