(no subject)
The walk to the Compound and back again is so much longer on little legs, but Gwen didn't have much of a choice. She's not going to show up on Peter's doorstep in a shirt that hangs on her like a tent and no pants. No way.
The t-shirt she pulled from the box is purple, says 'Sparklemotion' on it in glittery letters, and it was an odd discovery because even as she was delighted with the find, there was in the back of her mind the knowledge that she would normally find it hideous. Ah, well. No matter.
Barefoot, in her new, properly-fitting shirt and a pair of jean shorts, she makes her way to Peter's hut, wondering whether she'll find him changed too, whether he'd be near her age, or bony and teenaged like the Doctor. It's a bit humiliating, she thinks, that she's not at least sixteen and voluptuous, but she can't very well hide from him all weekend.
Stopping outside the hut, she curls her bare toes under against the dirt and calls his name in her tiny Welsh voice.
The t-shirt she pulled from the box is purple, says 'Sparklemotion' on it in glittery letters, and it was an odd discovery because even as she was delighted with the find, there was in the back of her mind the knowledge that she would normally find it hideous. Ah, well. No matter.
Barefoot, in her new, properly-fitting shirt and a pair of jean shorts, she makes her way to Peter's hut, wondering whether she'll find him changed too, whether he'd be near her age, or bony and teenaged like the Doctor. It's a bit humiliating, she thinks, that she's not at least sixteen and voluptuous, but she can't very well hide from him all weekend.
Stopping outside the hut, she curls her bare toes under against the dirt and calls his name in her tiny Welsh voice.