Back again.
Whether she's looking for the Doctor or pointedly not looking for the Doctor is anyone's guess. Either way, she's at the bar with a fruit cup, tea, and a bit of lightly buttered toast. It's breakfast, anyway.
She's also got her datapad with her, blood-red nails tapping away at the screen as she processes the data from her space traveler and some of her experiments placed on other worlds. Good luck trying to read over her shoulder; the language that flashes by so quickly isn't so much sentences as equations.
She's also got her datapad with her, blood-red nails tapping away at the screen as she processes the data from her space traveler and some of her experiments placed on other worlds. Good luck trying to read over her shoulder; the language that flashes by so quickly isn't so much sentences as equations.