RP for marthajonesmd, UNIT: Smith & Jones Edition
[note: this takes place in a verse where reject!ten was left in Martha's care instead of Rose's]
With one last click, he finished up his paperwork for the day. Well, technically it wasn't paper work since UNIT was paperless. Computer work, maybe? But computer work made it sound like he was doing more than ticking off a million monotonous questions in the UNIT database. With one last click he finished up his boring, pointless computer databasing? Is that what he had finished? He wasn't exactly sure, but it was done and he was happy. Aliens and monsters out there, and he was being asked to take note of whether a certain "alien" was a Code AC or a Code G10. Nevermind the "alien" wasn't an alien at all, just a very large dog a certain member of Parliament mistook for an alien during a very drunk weekend of fox hunting. Still needed to fill out the paperwork (pointless computer databasing?) saying there was an alien that really wasn't an alien.
Things had changed greatly since he was part of UNIT in the 1970s. It used to be an Auton attack earned you a stiff drink, if you were the type that enjoyed that kind of thing, and a "well lads, that was a close one." This paperwork thing never came into the picture. Or maybe it did. Point was paperwork was never anything the Doctor had to deal with.
Logging off his computer with great flourish, he grabbed his jacket and ran down to to the medical labs to see if he could convince Martha to step out and grab a bite of lunch with him. He reached the labs, and poked his head into the door.
"Doctor Jones," he said with a smile, "Could I - "
His words were cut off by the sound of a rather loud alarm. He loved alarms. Alarms meant there was something happening that needed to be stopped. Something he could stop. It also meant paperwork, but right now he didn't care. The thrill was worth the paperwork. At least that's what he says now. Ask him in a week, when he's filling out the paperwork, and it could be a completely different story.
With one last click, he finished up his paperwork for the day. Well, technically it wasn't paper work since UNIT was paperless. Computer work, maybe? But computer work made it sound like he was doing more than ticking off a million monotonous questions in the UNIT database. With one last click he finished up his boring, pointless computer databasing? Is that what he had finished? He wasn't exactly sure, but it was done and he was happy. Aliens and monsters out there, and he was being asked to take note of whether a certain "alien" was a Code AC or a Code G10. Nevermind the "alien" wasn't an alien at all, just a very large dog a certain member of Parliament mistook for an alien during a very drunk weekend of fox hunting. Still needed to fill out the paperwork (pointless computer databasing?) saying there was an alien that really wasn't an alien.
Things had changed greatly since he was part of UNIT in the 1970s. It used to be an Auton attack earned you a stiff drink, if you were the type that enjoyed that kind of thing, and a "well lads, that was a close one." This paperwork thing never came into the picture. Or maybe it did. Point was paperwork was never anything the Doctor had to deal with.
Logging off his computer with great flourish, he grabbed his jacket and ran down to to the medical labs to see if he could convince Martha to step out and grab a bite of lunch with him. He reached the labs, and poked his head into the door.
"Doctor Jones," he said with a smile, "Could I - "
His words were cut off by the sound of a rather loud alarm. He loved alarms. Alarms meant there was something happening that needed to be stopped. Something he could stop. It also meant paperwork, but right now he didn't care. The thrill was worth the paperwork. At least that's what he says now. Ask him in a week, when he's filling out the paperwork, and it could be a completely different story.