The Doctor frowns at Eva, squinting at her as if squinting will suddenly make his hearing pop right back to normal (it can't hurt to try). "What?"
The reason he's squinting becomes apparent because as easy as it would be to pretend he can't hear her, the truth is he's had centuries to get, well, decent to excellent to amazing at several hobbies and apparently he's not too shabby at a bit of lip-reading. The Doctor stares at her mouth moving with one of those almost bird-like looks of his, eyes flicking down to her little tick with her knee, and then back up to her mouth. Eva's still talking. Chatty woman! Quite right about the gun. He's three fourths of a mind to tell her to throw the thing away since she'll only shoot her eye out one of these days.
But he supposes that library is still out there and if it's between the library and the gun, he'll have to let that one slide just this once.
"I'd hardly call that exciting!" The Doctor wraps his arms around himself as he stamps his feet in place. The ringing is slowly dying down, the Doctor speaking with that too-loud voice of someone hard of hearing. "Trapped bush slash tree, I imagine. Death by boredom. It's very horrible,' he adds, almost as an afterthought. As if potential starving or dying of exposure wasn't anything as bad as sitting there with nothing to do for who knew how long.
The Doctor stamps there in front of the ragged shoe tree and rubs his arms together, brrring rather pathetically until he's warm enough to stamp over to Eva and hold out his hand to help her up off the log. Gun or not, she did rescue him; twice, even! He knew this human was a keeper.
"Probably ought to keep moving," he half-yells in her ear. "Everything Forest might've been trapped, so! Moving on!"
He starts to plunge into a random direction, ready to tug Eva after him like all his other companions.
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The reason he's squinting becomes apparent because as easy as it would be to pretend he can't hear her, the truth is he's had centuries to get, well, decent to excellent to amazing at several hobbies and apparently he's not too shabby at a bit of lip-reading. The Doctor stares at her mouth moving with one of those almost bird-like looks of his, eyes flicking down to her little tick with her knee, and then back up to her mouth. Eva's still talking. Chatty woman! Quite right about the gun. He's three fourths of a mind to tell her to throw the thing away since she'll only shoot her eye out one of these days.
But he supposes that library is still out there and if it's between the library and the gun, he'll have to let that one slide just this once.
"I'd hardly call that exciting!" The Doctor wraps his arms around himself as he stamps his feet in place. The ringing is slowly dying down, the Doctor speaking with that too-loud voice of someone hard of hearing. "Trapped bush slash tree, I imagine. Death by boredom. It's very horrible,' he adds, almost as an afterthought. As if potential starving or dying of exposure wasn't anything as bad as sitting there with nothing to do for who knew how long.
The Doctor stamps there in front of the ragged shoe tree and rubs his arms together, brrring rather pathetically until he's warm enough to stamp over to Eva and hold out his hand to help her up off the log. Gun or not, she did rescue him; twice, even! He knew this human was a keeper.
"Probably ought to keep moving," he half-yells in her ear. "Everything Forest might've been trapped, so! Moving on!"
He starts to plunge into a random direction, ready to tug Eva after him like all his other companions.