The Doctor doesn't make any sound when the door slams on his fingers, except a small shocked intake of breath. OUCH. No, not ouch; ouch doesn't begin to describe it, because he did make another sound when the door slammed, and that was "snap." Several snaps. He can't think exactly how many snaps right now, because his entire brain is involved in trying to work the pain down to some level he can deal with and still have some spare nerve endings left over for conscious thought.
He shakes the hand—his right—without thinking and that really doesn't help, and his next reaction is to ball the hand into a fist and hold it tight against his chest, and that's a bad idea, too.
His good hand against the doorframe, he leans there, as he tries to find some way to hold the broken fingers that doesn't hurt and his head begins to clear.
Unfortunately, the drums clear first.
"What was that?" He glares at the Doctor as his other rushes over, his eyes dark with pain and anger. Someone just hurt him, and it wasn't an accident, and if it was your fault, Doctor...
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He shakes the hand—his right—without thinking and that really doesn't help, and his next reaction is to ball the hand into a fist and hold it tight against his chest, and that's a bad idea, too.
His good hand against the doorframe, he leans there, as he tries to find some way to hold the broken fingers that doesn't hurt and his head begins to clear.
Unfortunately, the drums clear first.
"What was that?" He glares at the Doctor as his other rushes over, his eyes dark with pain and anger. Someone just hurt him, and it wasn't an accident, and if it was your fault, Doctor...