Who: The Fifth Doctor and open!
What: IMAGINATION STATION! (yes, I once went to a day care center called that. STFU)
Where: The gymnasium!
When: Officially, the 2 hours prior to lunch and 1 hour prior to dinner, but pretty much any time, really!
Warnings: ...paint fights? Tantrums? Who knows!
(
Oh man, chitlins )
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She normally did not work with the children this young, especially not the boys, but this was too much like where she was supposed to be.
She watched him put the paint on his face and smiled, walking over before kneeling down near him. "Who are you pretending to be?" she asked, unaware, of course, that the boy did not speak English.
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"What's your name?" she asked him, as his silent answer had only gathered her interest.
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At least Sexby's small English lessons weren't going to waste on the boy, as he wanted to learn a method to communicate so badly it almost made him cry. Hebrew wasn't a common language, he had found.
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Turning a bit, she dipped the brush in a pretty red color and handed it over to him. "Butterfly," she told the boy simply.
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"Flutterby," he said carefully as he dipped the brush back in the paint. "Flutterby flutterby."
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"Butterfly," she corrected and then reached over to gently tap his chin, modeling the "b" sound with her lips. "Butterfly."
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And then went right back to his painting, adding some red birds in the sky to fly near the sun. But, he smiled despite being with a stranger he hardly knew; painting was more fun than just drawing with coal or dust or Sexby's ink. But then the boy added a couple grapevines to the picture, as he'd seen very little outside of his father's vineyard.
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"Rabbit!" he smiled and grabbed some brown paint to smear all over the 'field' in her picture. Pffff, deserts are better than fields any day.
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He glanced up when the small boy approached the table, and chuckled at the warpaint. A clean piece of paper and a tray of fingerpaints were pushed across the table.
"Who might you be?" he asked, not recognising Judas by face yet.
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He wanted to find someone who could could communicate with him properly. Pictures with Sexby and Angelica's exaggerated charades helped immensely, but he wanted to be able to just talk to someone and know what they wanted of him, as his father had at least taught him to be obedient.
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"Judas!" he exclaimed happily, falling into the guttural language as easily as he usually did into English. "It's wonderful of you to come! Were you playing costume games with ben Sexby?" He pointed vaguely toward the fork and hat, curious as to their meanings.
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