When he returns to his TARDIS, the first thing he does is get a cleaning spray from the kitchen and scrape the sticky marshmallow coat off the console. He can feel the TARDIS' relief, mixed with a slightly apologetic twinge. Quite right, too. He's still angry with her, although now that he's got a quiet moment, he can feel her discomfort not only at being in this newly discovered multiverse, not only at having been compelled to take the passenger seat and not only at having her century fine tuner ruined, but also at being around another Doctor and another TARDIS who are so similar and yet so different at the same time. He can understand the last part; his other, despite the fact that he's decided to help him, still does make him a little bit nervous. It's nothing the Doctor would ever mention, but the constant echo of the drums is something he will have to get used to.
Replacing the fine tuner is not a lot of work; since he's replacing the whole component, it's really just a matter of taking out the old one and hooking the new one up to the wiring. The complicated part is calibrating it, but he can't do that when the TARDIS isn't in flight, and now that he's got her parked where he wants her, he won't move her unless he absolutely has to. Yes, I know you don't like it. I can't change that right now though.
Once the repairs are done, the Doctor gets to his feet and is about to pocket the sonic screwdriver when he remembers that he's not wearing his own jacket. The screwdriver he's been using is not his usual one, either; he used one from his stash he keeps in one of the boxes under the console. Right, time to go see if his clothes are still where he left them last night.
They are; as he enters the bathroom, his suit jacket and trousers are still flung over the towel rail, and the coat is in the bedroom, lying on the foot end of the bed, which is unmade. Well, it usually is, but he knows that this is where he disappeared from this morning. He takes out the sonic screwdriver and runs a quick scan, but there's nothing. Strange. He'd have at least expected some sort of trace of a teleportation device or something like that.
He shrugs and quickly changes into his proper clothes (and this feels much better, much more like himself), exchanging the blue Converse for his own beige ones after he fishes them out from under the bed respectively the night stand.
Before he leaves, he eyes the bed, almost longingly - for some reason, he's tired. He shouldn't be, he just woke up, and he's got work to do. He shakes his head, once, briefly, and heads back to the console room. He'll see if his other has returned already, and if he's maybe in a bit of a better mood by now.
When he pokes his head out of the TARDIS doors, he can see his other on the jump seat, fiddling with the scanner. He steps out of his TARDIS completely and smiles. "Hey."
no subject
When he returns to his TARDIS, the first thing he does is get a cleaning spray from the kitchen and scrape the sticky marshmallow coat off the console. He can feel the TARDIS' relief, mixed with a slightly apologetic twinge. Quite right, too. He's still angry with her, although now that he's got a quiet moment, he can feel her discomfort not only at being in this newly discovered multiverse, not only at having been compelled to take the passenger seat and not only at having her century fine tuner ruined, but also at being around another Doctor and another TARDIS who are so similar and yet so different at the same time. He can understand the last part; his other, despite the fact that he's decided to help him, still does make him a little bit nervous. It's nothing the Doctor would ever mention, but the constant echo of the drums is something he will have to get used to.
Replacing the fine tuner is not a lot of work; since he's replacing the whole component, it's really just a matter of taking out the old one and hooking the new one up to the wiring. The complicated part is calibrating it, but he can't do that when the TARDIS isn't in flight, and now that he's got her parked where he wants her, he won't move her unless he absolutely has to. Yes, I know you don't like it. I can't change that right now though.
Once the repairs are done, the Doctor gets to his feet and is about to pocket the sonic screwdriver when he remembers that he's not wearing his own jacket. The screwdriver he's been using is not his usual one, either; he used one from his stash he keeps in one of the boxes under the console. Right, time to go see if his clothes are still where he left them last night.
They are; as he enters the bathroom, his suit jacket and trousers are still flung over the towel rail, and the coat is in the bedroom, lying on the foot end of the bed, which is unmade. Well, it usually is, but he knows that this is where he disappeared from this morning. He takes out the sonic screwdriver and runs a quick scan, but there's nothing. Strange. He'd have at least expected some sort of trace of a teleportation device or something like that.
He shrugs and quickly changes into his proper clothes (and this feels much better, much more like himself), exchanging the blue Converse for his own beige ones after he fishes them out from under the bed respectively the night stand.
Before he leaves, he eyes the bed, almost longingly - for some reason, he's tired. He shouldn't be, he just woke up, and he's got work to do. He shakes his head, once, briefly, and heads back to the console room. He'll see if his other has returned already, and if he's maybe in a bit of a better mood by now.
When he pokes his head out of the TARDIS doors, he can see his other on the jump seat, fiddling with the scanner. He steps out of his TARDIS completely and smiles. "Hey."