tcnetwork | (no subject)

Entry tags:

the doctor (eleventh)

(no subject)

The Doctor
Research Center Supervisor
Scientist: Dimensional Engineering, Sonic Devices, Telepathic Interfaces, et. al.
Time Lord
Special U.N.I.T. Science Adviser
Caretaker
Traveler Through All of Time and Space
Knight of the Royal Victorian Order
Former Lord-President of Gallifrey
Inventor of Yorkshire Pudding
Alias: The Oncoming Storm
Harry Feynman's Boss
Here to Help

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He stares at her a second longer, then glances downward, taking a brief moment to compose himself. She can't see it, so it's the best opportunity to do so.]

...good, all right, it's just this way.

[He starts walking, slowly, guiding her gently by her hands.]

So, was there, is there, anything else--anything else that's.. off, somehow--big or small?

[ If he's unnerved or in any way upset, there'd be no way for her to tell visually. ]

I can't feel anything. But I think I have a fever.

[No, nope, he's fine, nothing wrong here, he's okay, he's always okay, he's the king of okay.]

Ah... right, well, I'll check once we get you a lie-down, eh? I s'pose it's best we don't get you a snack if you're losing your tactile sense, as well, what about others, though, smell, or taste, maybe something soft, a milkshake, orrr custard, perhaps with fish-fingers...

[A brief pause as though he's distracted himself from his own train of thought.]

......ah, no, probably not fish-fingers, not just now anyway, sorry, where was I..?

[ If he's the king of okay, does that make her the countess of chaos? Check that, it sounds terrifying. ]

...fish fingers with custard?

[ She can't even begin to imagine what that would even taste like, but congratulations, Doctor. You've distracted her. ]

[She gets his usual amusingly exasperated tone in answer, as though he thinks she's answering his question.]

Well, yes, I know that, maybe you can have some when you're better, but I meant where was I before that.

...I'm not sure. [ She genuinely isn't. A little hard to follow when she can't see, The Doctor. ]

[He pauses just a tick at that--that's decidedly not the answer he was hoping for, but he's committed to playing it cool.]

...ah, yes, right, sorry, was wondering if you can taste, we could get you a milkshake, something you can drink to hold you over.

After or before the clinic? [ If she can't smell, she thinks the taste sense is probably gone as well. But...doesn't hurt to check, right? ]

[He brightens just a little at what might possibly be a little enthusiasm over milkshakes.]

Well, let's get you to the clinic, first, just in case, and I'll see what I can do 'bout the milkshake.

Okay. Maybe this is just some weird space virus? [ That'd be great, right? Something the clinic has an easy fix for. ]

Ah.. yes, might be one of those.

[...although not one that he knows about, which narrows the field quite a bit--but there are always new things, of course, which have the bonus of not being the things he's hoping they're not.]

If it is, they'll probably know how to fix it.

They might just, yeah, with a little luck.

[Even if not, there were worse things than an unfamiliar new sort of space-flu. He made no comment about that, though, as he walked her carefully up to the clinic and inside, guiding her through the door.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only