The Doctor (brazen_hearts) wrote,
The Doctor
brazen_hearts

Cheers to Jack Frost - for thegooddrjones

"Doctor, come on! You've survived going shopping with me before, and I even caught you smiling in the middle of it!"

"Tut, Peri. I promised Erimem we'd show her the Eye of--"

"But it's boring there. We've seen it fifty times already!"

"Ah, but she hasn't. And it isn't boring. It's tranquil. After what we've just scraped out of, I'm sure you can appreciate the effort."

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Erimem?"

"I want to go to this shopping. What Peri has described to me sounds very exciting! Surely we can do this, and attend to the Eye later? You're a--a Time Lord, yes?"

...what a dreadful time for them to make a valid argument against him. And Peri's triumphant smirk didn't help matters at all.

"Yeah, Doctor. We can go there any old time. But Christmas shopping needs a certain mood. Pizazz for the season! And time travel doesn't catch that all the time, you know."

"Peri..."

"Doctor."

"Peri!"

"What about London? When was the last time you had tea with the Brig?"

He can't exactly remember how that landed him in the spot of agreeing to let them go, but there it is. At least he doesn't have to go with them, even if there's a good chance the Brigadier might no longer be there. He's not sure why he agreed to let them do this in Earth's 21st century, either, but, well... they've promised not to make trouble. They stand expectantly near the door like children waiting for permission to go and play in the snow as he navigates the landing and dematerialisation. The coordinates check out. Early December of 2009... Peri was vehement that he make certain not to land them in the last Friday of November, for some reason, but she wouldn't elaborate. Viewscreen... check. It looks safe enough. He goes for his hat.

"Have you got your satchels?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Enough layers? Lists, idents, key, what have you?"

Peri rolls her eyes. "Yes, dad. We'll be back by sundown, okay?"

"Very well. Don't bring the whole of London down on our heads, please."

It's amazing to see how quickly they disappear as soon as the doors open. Adjusting his coat, shaking his head and laughing to himself, the Doctor steps out the door moments after them, locks it behind him and ventures out of the alley to glance up and down the street it opens to, enjoying the stark city winter and the bustle that still cuts through it. He does a marvy job of blending into the crowd, he thinks, and weaving through it without causing a fuss... until, distracted by the shapes of snowflakes he's noticed in the process of waiting to cross the street, he starts forward and collides directly with someone at the curb, sending half their boxes to the ground.

"Oh! Terribly sorry," he mutters, stooping to pick them out of the snow. "Where is my head?"
Tags: [martha], [mini], [rp]
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It was very odd for Martha to be returned to London. In some ways her time apart from the city had made once familiar pathways distant and echoing, and the city seemed strangely silent now that she'd come back from the odd hustle and bustle of New York. For a few minutes, she'd been content just to watch, to feel the crowd move and sway around her, breathing in the collective mix of stress and happiness that was Christmas shopping in the city.

It was London more than anywhere that she felt the difference between times before the Doctor and after. So many odd things had happened in London on Christmas, and it was of great debate whether people should linger or head for the hills during the hols. Martha (and her family) were going to stay. They were, after all, secure in their knowledge that the Doctor would save them, should there be a need for saving.

She shivered in her jacket, and she tucked the scarf more firmly around her neck as she attempted to balance her shopping bags on two fingers. Martha probably would have succeeded if it hadn't been for the man who had bumped into her and sent the packages scattered about. Martha just spoke quickly. "It's alright, accidents happen, yeah?"
"Not usually," he replied all too cheerfully, "but seeing as how I'm not some nefarious villain that I know of, and--" and he stood again, dusting off a small box and attempting to put it back into a bag, all rather clumsily, "and you don't quite look the type to be one yourself, though I suppose the same could be said for several nefarious villains I've met... here you go."

All bags were held up to her in more or less the same condition they'd been in before their great escape, offered by a hand strangely ungloved in this weather. His entire person looked a bit out of place, in fact; his coat nothing more than a somewhat decorative frock and no scarf, mittens or muffs to be found... and yet he didn't look the slightest bit uncomfortable in the cold, nor did he seem fazed by a rather tenacious stalk of celery clinging to the oddly outlined lapel. He did, however, have a friendly smile and a vaguely concerned undertone in his expression.

"You look as if you're not quite yet used to this snow," he mused, more like he was solving a puzzle than being terribly worried. "Or that perhaps you were once, and had a while to forget about it. D'you travel?"