[009]
[There's a sound like choking or retching before the Doctor's voice is heard across the phone. He sounds distant and disoriented.]
Still have legs. That's good, I like having legs, long legs, still tall. That's good, tall is good. Am I ginger yet?
[He groans and the sound of him shifting comes across the phone.]
No, still not ginger... In fact, I'm still pretty... me. Well, that's new, never got through death while still being me. New and wrong, not quite sure I like this...dying thing, it's kind of painful and... deathlike.
[He inhales before speaking again, as though trying to steady himself]
...Pamela, Elizabeth. Are you alright? Where are you? Did... did you escape?
Did anyone else... Did they come to anyone else's house? How many? Someone tell me.
Did anyone survive?
[Action at 951 Beulah St.]
[The Doctor is sitting in a blood splattered and burnt kitchen, resting against the fridge. Most of the house was ripped apart in the raid, leaving only a few pieces of furniture intact. The Doctor seems to be ignoring the state of the house right now. He's pale as a ghost and looks vaguely ill and he's still wearing the blood splattered clothes from the attack. But the Doctor has made no effort to move or clean himself up and instead is resting with his head in his hands. Occasionally he pulls his hands back to examine himself, as though he can't quite believe he's still here]
[A few hours later, the Doctor comes back on the line]
Let's ignore the accidental post I made earlier, shall we. State of shock, weird things come out of my mouth, so let's not concern ourselves with it, in fact let's forget about it entirely. Yes, that's a good plan, act like you've had a total memory wipe. Nice selective amnesia.
Instead let's concern ourselves with each other. Watch your house, watch your family, and watch your neighbors, watch everyone you can. They're trying to make us fall apart, but we can't be that stupid. Don't give up and don't give up on anyone who needs help in this town. [He stresses the last part of his sentence.]
Still have legs. That's good, I like having legs, long legs, still tall. That's good, tall is good. Am I ginger yet?
[He groans and the sound of him shifting comes across the phone.]
No, still not ginger... In fact, I'm still pretty... me. Well, that's new, never got through death while still being me. New and wrong, not quite sure I like this...dying thing, it's kind of painful and... deathlike.
[He inhales before speaking again, as though trying to steady himself]
...Pamela, Elizabeth. Are you alright? Where are you? Did... did you escape?
Did anyone else... Did they come to anyone else's house? How many? Someone tell me.
Did anyone survive?
[Action at 951 Beulah St.]
[The Doctor is sitting in a blood splattered and burnt kitchen, resting against the fridge. Most of the house was ripped apart in the raid, leaving only a few pieces of furniture intact. The Doctor seems to be ignoring the state of the house right now. He's pale as a ghost and looks vaguely ill and he's still wearing the blood splattered clothes from the attack. But the Doctor has made no effort to move or clean himself up and instead is resting with his head in his hands. Occasionally he pulls his hands back to examine himself, as though he can't quite believe he's still here]
[A few hours later, the Doctor comes back on the line]
Let's ignore the accidental post I made earlier, shall we. State of shock, weird things come out of my mouth, so let's not concern ourselves with it, in fact let's forget about it entirely. Yes, that's a good plan, act like you've had a total memory wipe. Nice selective amnesia.
Instead let's concern ourselves with each other. Watch your house, watch your family, and watch your neighbors, watch everyone you can. They're trying to make us fall apart, but we can't be that stupid. Don't give up and don't give up on anyone who needs help in this town. [He stresses the last part of his sentence.]