RP: Untitled; for metacrisised
Her day, like the entire week leading up to it, had been a hectic one, and Donna was exhausted. She popped by her mum's to pick up a few things she'd left behind, and by the time she arrived home to the new flat, she was ready to keel over. "Doctor?" she called wearily, tossing her bag onto the catchall table inside the door and dropping the box of odds and ends (most of which, she was sure, were he mum's contributions to the flat) on the floor.
She got no answer other than the pathetic mewls of their small kitten and the Doctor's favorite neghborhood stray. She bent to scratch their heads, asking, "Where's he gotten himself to, then? Hmmm?" Both meowed in response, but she suspected they had no answer, but simply wanted fed. She sighed and walked into the cramped kitchen and opened a can of tuna for them to share before sitting at the tiny table and dropping her head into her hands. She was so tired, she could have fallen asleep just as she was.
She got no answer other than the pathetic mewls of their small kitten and the Doctor's favorite neghborhood stray. She bent to scratch their heads, asking, "Where's he gotten himself to, then? Hmmm?" Both meowed in response, but she suspected they had no answer, but simply wanted fed. She sighed and walked into the cramped kitchen and opened a can of tuna for them to share before sitting at the tiny table and dropping her head into her hands. She was so tired, she could have fallen asleep just as she was.