Nightshift 49: 2nd Floor Staff Lounge
( From here.Touya stepped through the door and stopped. He'd been in quite a few closets in his time of various kinds, and this was not a closet. Not unless Landel started storing couches and paintings of puppies in his closets. Did he take a wrong turn
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But as long as they were getting tossed from place to place, he had to see what, if anything, he could find out. Given the normalcy of their newest location, this might be a good place to start.
Dean had looked at one of the magazines from a table full of them, and the Doctor decided to check them out himself after the other man had moved on. Magazines should have dates, and a date was needed to know when they were dealing with instead of simple generalities and estimates. The Doctor checked the magazine Dean had looked at first, scanning the front and back for a date or any particular headlines. There was no date, and nothing specific on the cover to place it in less certain terms. Frowning, he checked the rest of the magazines, even flipping through one that had looked promising, but they were all vague. Generic. Dateless.
The Doctor looked up from the magazine table when Dean asked if he was okay. "I'm alright," he said simply. The kennels had bothered him, but there was nothing he could do about the creatures right now. He may not have liked it, but he recognized it; he would simply have to try to find them again and see if there was anything he could do to help them.
The magazines had been a bust, but maybe the television would prove more useful. He pointed his torch at it. "I wonder if that gets any news programs at this hour," he said, moving towards the counter where it stood.
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Assuming they'd get something and it wasn't gonna be some weird cockblock like the magazines. Man, that was just dedication right there. Dean was just surprised all over again at the eye for detail - these magazines couldn't be real, not when this kind of stuff should have more tells for the date. Gossip wasn't exactly timeless. But the magazine he'd picked up had been so damn generic that it'd stood out, and he couldn't have been the only one to notice that. The Doctor had picked them up too, and Sam had noticed the lack of date on the newspapers before that. Still, seeding all these magazines and literally wiping out anything that could narrow down the year was way too funky to just be an accident here and there; had to be coordinated somehow.
Dean idled about the room. He'd rather get a move on, but the Doctor wanted answers too. It'd only take a few seconds to check the TV anyway and it wasn't like he had a date or something to rush off to.
He stood off to the side to give the Doctor some breathing room, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned his hip against the mini-fridge.
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He started fiddling with the channel controls, but channel after channel all the television was showing was static. If he'd had his sonic screwdriver, tuning the set to pick up a station it wouldn't normally would have taken no time at all, but without it... He could start tinkering with the set, but that would take time they might not have. The night was already wearing on, and morning always seemed to sneak up quickly.
The Doctor frowned, trying more channels, but they were just the same as the first few. Fruitless though it was, it had been worth the look. No reception on the television, nothing that he could use to place the date-or even the decaded-in the magazines... They seemed unusually determined to keep the date out of sight, and that alone was worth noting.
He turned off the set and glanced at Dean, first joining the man and then heading for the door. "Or not, I suppose. Ready to move on?"
He opened the door and went through.
[To here]
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