Fic: Arriving
Title: Arriving
Author: mallory_x
Characters: 10, Rose
Rating: G
Disclaimer: They’re only mine in my daydreams.
Summary: Where’ve we ended up this time?
A/N: Um, this is a bit random. It’s my first fic, it’s really short (but too long to be a drabble), and it just popped into my head (even though the link to the prompt is a bit vague). All comments welcome, as long as you’re polite ;)
perambulate \puh-RAM-byuh-layt\, intransitive verb:
1. To walk about; to roam; to stroll; as, "he perambulated in the park."
transitive verb:
1. To walk through or over.
2. To travel over for the purpose of surveying or inspecting.
The Doctor opened the TARDIS door and poked his head outside.
"Where’ve we ended up this time?" Rose asked, trying in vain to decipher the readouts on the monitors.
“We’re…ah.” He ducked quickly back inside the safety of the TARDIS, as a small white projectile narrowly missed his head, hit the ramp and rolled back outside. He stuck his head round the door. “Nice shot!” he called. He turned back to Rose, who was glaring suspiciously at the small pennant on a pole that now stood next to her. “We seem to be on a golf course.” He glanced at the flag. “Eighteenth hole.”
“Don’tcha think people are gonna notice a blue box just appearin’ in the middle of their game?” asked Rose. This time, she thought, people would be bound to say something. Golfers tended to be quite serious about rules and stuff.
“Naah. We’ll just tell them...we’re from the gas board or something. Do them good to have a bit of a change, anyway. Golf’s just a good walk spoilt, or however that quote goes.” He paused. “Cricket, now, there’s a sport. I used to like cricket.” He looked contemplative for a moment, then brightened. “Anyway, come on.” He bounded towards the doors.
“Where’re we goin’?”
“If there’s one thing I know about golf, it’s that shortly after the eighteenth hole, you tend to find the nineteenth.” He grinned and held out his hand. “Fancy a drink?”
Author: mallory_x
Characters: 10, Rose
Rating: G
Disclaimer: They’re only mine in my daydreams.
Summary: Where’ve we ended up this time?
A/N: Um, this is a bit random. It’s my first fic, it’s really short (but too long to be a drabble), and it just popped into my head (even though the link to the prompt is a bit vague). All comments welcome, as long as you’re polite ;)
perambulate \puh-RAM-byuh-layt\, intransitive verb:
1. To walk about; to roam; to stroll; as, "he perambulated in the park."
transitive verb:
1. To walk through or over.
2. To travel over for the purpose of surveying or inspecting.
The Doctor opened the TARDIS door and poked his head outside.
"Where’ve we ended up this time?" Rose asked, trying in vain to decipher the readouts on the monitors.
“We’re…ah.” He ducked quickly back inside the safety of the TARDIS, as a small white projectile narrowly missed his head, hit the ramp and rolled back outside. He stuck his head round the door. “Nice shot!” he called. He turned back to Rose, who was glaring suspiciously at the small pennant on a pole that now stood next to her. “We seem to be on a golf course.” He glanced at the flag. “Eighteenth hole.”
“Don’tcha think people are gonna notice a blue box just appearin’ in the middle of their game?” asked Rose. This time, she thought, people would be bound to say something. Golfers tended to be quite serious about rules and stuff.
“Naah. We’ll just tell them...we’re from the gas board or something. Do them good to have a bit of a change, anyway. Golf’s just a good walk spoilt, or however that quote goes.” He paused. “Cricket, now, there’s a sport. I used to like cricket.” He looked contemplative for a moment, then brightened. “Anyway, come on.” He bounded towards the doors.
“Where’re we goin’?”
“If there’s one thing I know about golf, it’s that shortly after the eighteenth hole, you tend to find the nineteenth.” He grinned and held out his hand. “Fancy a drink?”