[Sarah Jane has been going through the network most of the morning, being in turns horrified, amused, worried. Mostly, though horrified. Not just at the content of the entries, but at her own lack of response to the majority of them.]If that's what the Animus are capable of, we need to work much harder to get ourselves out of here than we have
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You always know just what to say, don't you?
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I don't know about that, but I always have something to say.
[Quieter, with a hint of remorse.]
Except for last week, when it mattered. I didn't care about anything last week. Nothing at all. I'm sorry.
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[He's quiet for a long time, then, before humming in thought, still sounding impossibly tired.]
Apathy isn't the worst thing to come from the last week. Not... [...] There are worse things than staying quiet.
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[Deep breath.]
I can guess the answer, but I have to ask. Are you all right? Physically, if nothing else.
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[The Doctor's forte. Saying things, but never actually taking them to heart. Not for himself, at least. But at Sarah's question, the video feed is finally flickering on, and the Doctor's turning his head slightly to the side, smile lopsided due to the slightly swollen, purpling patches on one side of his face.] A bit battered and bruised, but otherwise uninjured.
[Mentally, though? Emotionally? ... He isn't even going to go there.]
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[There is obvious relief at seeing him, but it's quickly replaced with concern.]
You look worse than when the pteranodon nearly carved out your eyes. We've got fresh running water here, thanks to the waterfall beneath the house. It's rather cool, also. Might be good for the swelling.
[Come and visit, Doctor.]
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