[ she thinks alien, but nothing comes immediate to mind in regards to a regenerating species, nothing but time lord, but β well, he wouldn't be. in the corner of her eye, she can still see him bearing the same face he'd worn when he'd gotten hint, suggesting that, as much as she grows anxious at the idea of finding another gallifreyan, she doubts he's one.
the important thing is getting him out of sight for now, that much she knows, and her first thought is to carry him to the tardis. except hers has proven a bit trickier to set up in cities without looking incredibly inconspicuous. logic had told her it was probably best not to plant a tardis trapped in the form of an american diner right in the heart of paris, but now that she was in a hurry, she realizes it would have been much more convenient if she'd parked it closer.
(for the first time, she actually realizes that a police phone box isn't the worst idea.)
when he suddenly speaks, she's so startled by it that she almost drops him, still circling the idea that he was very much dead just a few minutes ago. ]
You have a very funny definition of fine. [ she honestly doesn't think they're far enough yet, but the diner is still a few blocks away, so she instead settles on guiding him onto the nearest bench, lowering him carefully. ] You should lay down at least. That was a nasty hit you took.
[ 'Tis but a scratch. See how he doesn't protest against her leading him towards a spot to sit and rest while the last of his cracks and bruises heals, however.
The older he gets and the more impact he sustains, the more time it takes to heal. He'd warned Nile of that not so long ago, and the wound then β a grenade launched in the Guards' direction β had been much larger. But it always heals β and he's still not sure whether that knowledge is a comfort or a curse.
The clarity from the booze wearing off is also less than charming.
He breathes out. ]
Might I ask where you were taking me?
[ The hospital is in the other direction, and no, he won't be going there anyway β clearly. ]
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β‘β‘β‘
the important thing is getting him out of sight for now, that much she knows, and her first thought is to carry him to the tardis. except hers has proven a bit trickier to set up in cities without looking incredibly inconspicuous. logic had told her it was probably best not to plant a tardis trapped in the form of an american diner right in the heart of paris, but now that she was in a hurry, she realizes it would have been much more convenient if she'd parked it closer.
(for the first time, she actually realizes that a police phone box isn't the worst idea.)
when he suddenly speaks, she's so startled by it that she almost drops him, still circling the idea that he was very much dead just a few minutes ago. ]
You have a very funny definition of fine. [ she honestly doesn't think they're far enough yet, but the diner is still a few blocks away, so she instead settles on guiding him onto the nearest bench, lowering him carefully. ] You should lay down at least. That was a nasty hit you took.
smooch
[ 'Tis but a scratch. See how he doesn't protest against her leading him towards a spot to sit and rest while the last of his cracks and bruises heals, however.
The older he gets and the more impact he sustains, the more time it takes to heal. He'd warned Nile of that not so long ago, and the wound then β a grenade launched in the Guards' direction β had been much larger. But it always heals β and he's still not sure whether that knowledge is a comfort or a curse.
The clarity from the booze wearing off is also less than charming.
He breathes out. ]
Might I ask where you were taking me?
[ The hospital is in the other direction, and no, he won't be going there anyway β clearly. ]