ext_215200 ([identity profile] watch-is-me.livejournal.com) wrote in [personal profile] or_timelords 2008-12-28 08:25 pm (UTC)

The Doctor feels his connection with his TARDIS attenuate as his other reaches away from the steering lever, and there's nothing he can do. He hates that, hates being helpless; anger and irritation and the sound of the drums flood into the hollow in his chest caved out by panic. If his other only kept his TARDIS in proper repair—

But then the connection snaps back into place, and it's alright, his TARDIS is there, so they must have arrived without incident. Though...she seems a bit put out. About something. Huh.

What? He glances over at his other, who's complaining. It sounds like he's complaining—they made it, what would he be complaining about?

A spark fizzles deep in a snarl of the console wiring, and a wisp of steam, smelling of ozone and flowers and honey, wafts over towards him, from where his other is dabbing at the controls. OH. ...That was bound to happen, wasn't it? He really needs to solder some cupholders on, one of these days.

"Here." He riffles through his pockets, and comes up with...a loofah, well, that'll work, why does he have that? And a handkerchief embroidered with winged snakes in a quaint countrified pattern. Also some Peeps, in assorted colors, hm, those are a bit absorbent. He squashes loofah, handkerchief, and Peeps all down on the damp part of the console. Peeps also make for decent insulation, that ought to keep some of the sparking down. "There we go."

"We've made it." He hugs his other one-armed, around his back and shoulders, grinning. "Fantastic! Come on, open the doors, see if you've got her the right way about."

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