The Doctor makes a rather un-Doctorly snort at Eva’s remark.
“I imagine being dead would be incredibly inconvenient.” Although for all they know, he could actually end up ginger, so maybe it wouldn’t be entirely inconvenient. Maybe. It’s another one of those “next time” things, like telling yourself you’ll remember to bring in the laundry from outside. “Twenty-seven bones!” The Doctor looks surprised, peering at Eva. Scars and loads of broken bones. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about any drops in here. The Zero Room is one of the safer places in the TARDIS.”
The gravity could be slightly glitchy in there but he doesn’t foresee any drops. The Doctor gives up trying to peer out of an eye that is slowly swelling up on him, squinting around and bobbing his head in that alien bird-like fashion of his. He follows after Eva, shaking water from his boots as he squelches along. Eva’s path takes them out of the museum lobby to another short corridor, the walls lined with vases dating from early man to some time in the mid-3000s. The pool beyond is Jamie’s pool: the one he discovered during that bout of spring cleaning and decided that the best way to bathe a Scot was to fall headfirst into a pool. Eva will find that the pool is empty now, sitting with a few sad puddles at the very bottom.
He points toward the opposite end at the door.
“The Zero Room. Provided it hasn’t turn carnivorous too, I think you’ll like it. Lovely place, the Zero Room!” The Doctor manages a tired, water-logged grin. “Very bubbly.”
He means it literally too. Unfortunately there isn’t much in the way of food or dry clothes there that he can offer Eva. It’s difficult not to think of her as “his” human. He’s done it so long with Jamie and the others that it’s almost the habit of an old man stuck to that same routine every morning, every decade – every century, even!
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“I imagine being dead would be incredibly inconvenient.” Although for all they know, he could actually end up ginger, so maybe it wouldn’t be entirely inconvenient. Maybe. It’s another one of those “next time” things, like telling yourself you’ll remember to bring in the laundry from outside. “Twenty-seven bones!” The Doctor looks surprised, peering at Eva. Scars and loads of broken bones. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about any drops in here. The Zero Room is one of the safer places in the TARDIS.”
The gravity could be slightly glitchy in there but he doesn’t foresee any drops. The Doctor gives up trying to peer out of an eye that is slowly swelling up on him, squinting around and bobbing his head in that alien bird-like fashion of his. He follows after Eva, shaking water from his boots as he squelches along. Eva’s path takes them out of the museum lobby to another short corridor, the walls lined with vases dating from early man to some time in the mid-3000s. The pool beyond is Jamie’s pool: the one he discovered during that bout of spring cleaning and decided that the best way to bathe a Scot was to fall headfirst into a pool. Eva will find that the pool is empty now, sitting with a few sad puddles at the very bottom.
He points toward the opposite end at the door.
“The Zero Room. Provided it hasn’t turn carnivorous too, I think you’ll like it. Lovely place, the Zero Room!” The Doctor manages a tired, water-logged grin. “Very bubbly.”
He means it literally too. Unfortunately there isn’t much in the way of food or dry clothes there that he can offer Eva. It’s difficult not to think of her as “his” human. He’s done it so long with Jamie and the others that it’s almost the habit of an old man stuck to that same routine every morning, every decade – every century, even!