I can tell, you look awful. Good remedy is a nice, big breakfast.
[He pauses and looks directly at Dean, as though having just seen him for the first time.]
If you're into that sort of thing.
[Sobering up for the moment, he gazes at his surroundings, feeling the brick with his fingers, breathing deeply.] Your standard atmosphere, oxygen rich, nitrogen--[He pauses to sniff a few times.]--plenty of ozone, low but growing carbon dioxide--[and finally, his features contort and the Doctor rolls his tongue as if he's tasted something mildly unpleasant or sour.]-- lots of methane but not too much; your standard city on the verge of industrial revolution.
[Dean's about to make a move for his gun when the doctor closes the distance between them and he's forced to still his hand on the inside of his coat.]
[The Doctor's eyes fixate on Dean's. What is personal space?
But he sees what you're doing there. His voice is quiet as he takes a step back.]
I would if I could, but I don't, so I can't. Put that away, bullets aren't going to get you home any faster. All they get is people dead. And property damage.
[He holds his hands up as though to admit to being unarmed. Which is exactly what he's doing.]
What do you think I'm going to do, stun you with my bow tie?
[The Doctor takes this as a good sign and drops his hands, feigning being at total ease.] So!
A group of people from different times and places, all brought to one little city in none-of-us-knows-where, and chances are most if not all of you are entirely unused to inter-dimensional travel or any kind of travel that isn't boring and linear.
Normal time. [folding his arms. B| ] Rambling. I'm rambling. Something is wrong, here, I can feel it, taste it--something is very... [He lets out a short breath.] ... very wrong.
[The Doctor's gaze snaps back to Dean.] And don't look at me like that. A man appears in a blue box from thin air and you all assume he's responsible for whatever mess you're in. I'm not, by the way.
[Dean licks his lips, and keeps his gaze focused on the toes of his boots as long as he can before looking over at his company with a half sarcastic, half confused expression that tells a lot about how he handles most annoyances in his life.]
Didn't say anything. [He'd settle for indifference now. The guy wasn't a visible threat, but he was ... on crack.]
Not verbally, no. [The man "on crack" is either unaware of or doesn't seem to mind Dean's attitude. Sorry Dean. Actually, Dean's behavior intrigues the Doctor, which is probably worse for Dean at this point.]
Such as? Judging from your clothes and that gun, and no doubt what other weapons you're carrying, you're used to taking a very... active approach.
[He tilts his head.] Your body language, defensive but uncertain tone and sarcasm, well, it's clear when you can't shoot it or wound it and it's big and overwhelming, you fold back in and reassess.
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And turning it in circles.
He's thinking.]
You. Language. You're fond of using words that typically consist of four letters. [He drops his hand and adjusts his lapels proudly.]
Answer: No--No, I am not. Did I wake you up? Sorry about that. Lovely morning, though, nothing like fresh air after a nasty storm like that one.
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Not really. I've been up for a while.
[As in, he barely slept a wink.]
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[He pauses and looks directly at Dean, as though having just seen him for the first time.]
If you're into that sort of thing.
[Sobering up for the moment, he gazes at his surroundings, feeling the brick with his fingers, breathing deeply.] Your standard atmosphere, oxygen rich, nitrogen--[He pauses to sniff a few times.]--plenty of ozone, low but growing carbon dioxide--[and finally, his features contort and the Doctor rolls his tongue as if he's tasted something mildly unpleasant or sour.]-- lots of methane but not too much; your standard city on the verge of industrial revolution.
Breathe the air though, it's good for you.
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Uh-- Yeah. Thanks.
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It's a bit off. Fuzzy, even. I don't like fuzzy, it's... --never mind what it is.
Late twentieth century? Earth?
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Mind tellin' me what the hell's goin' on?
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But he sees what you're doing there. His voice is quiet as he takes a step back.]
I would if I could, but I don't, so I can't. Put that away, bullets aren't going to get you home any faster. All they get is people dead. And property damage.
[He holds his hands up as though to admit to being unarmed. Which is exactly what he's doing.]
What do you think I'm going to do, stun you with my bow tie?
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A group of people from different times and places, all brought to one little city in none-of-us-knows-where, and chances are most if not all of you are entirely unused to inter-dimensional travel or any kind of travel that isn't boring and linear.
Normal time. [folding his arms. B| ] Rambling. I'm rambling. Something is wrong, here, I can feel it, taste it--something is very... [He lets out a short breath.] ... very wrong.
[The Doctor's gaze snaps back to Dean.] And don't look at me like that. A man appears in a blue box from thin air and you all assume he's responsible for whatever mess you're in. I'm not, by the way.
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Didn't say anything. [He'd settle for indifference now. The guy wasn't a visible threat, but he was ... on crack.]
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What do you think is going on?
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I've got some suspicions.
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[He tilts his head.] Your body language, defensive but uncertain tone and sarcasm, well, it's clear when you can't shoot it or wound it and it's big and overwhelming, you fold back in and reassess.
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