(no subject)
The narration would like to present the multi-character post of doom.
The Eighth Doctor is walking about and looking, for the most part, quite pleased with himself. Oh yes, there’s certainly something burning at the back of his mind, a certain door that he knows he ought to be going through, but he’s ignoring that for much lighter thoughts.
Meanwhile, his Tenth regeneration is currently located next to a TARDIS. He is finding that it may or may not be the TARDIS he himself came to the Inn with but it most certainly is a TARDIS all the same. Currently, he is inspecting the exterior, giving her a light knock before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a key.
If anyone needs him, he’s gone exploring, possibly down memory lane.
Romana is seated away from the bustle but keeping an eye on Ten, curious as to what he may be up to but keeping her commentary to herself (for now at least). She’s got other things she’s working on anyway, a small book is set in front of her, notes scribbled in the margins, but she’s finding that her attention is drifting and really, she’s not too keen on setting it back in place just yet.
Reid isn’t paying much attention to what’s going on around him. He’s taken up a spot on the floor in front of the fire with a small box of letters. Every so often he’ll cast one into the flames, before looking down at his box, wondering if he should just throw the whole thing in there at once and just have it all be done with.
Every time he winds up shaking his head, picking up another letter and repeating the process over again.
Dearly’s watching everyone from a position behind a couch. He’s been there for a while and doesn’t have many plans on moving any time soon. There’s a sketchbook in his hands and he’s been practing his drawing, sometimes doodling what was in his head and sometimes drawing the strange, although amusing people around him. He’s not the greatest, not by any means, but he’s got a little bit of skill and that was better than nothing.
And last but not least is George, who is sprawled out on the couch that Dearly is hiding behind. She’s got headphones on, music loud enough to block out any background chatter from the people around her and a book in her hands. She’s been like that for a while and there’s a cold cup of coffee on the floor next to her to prove it.
Disturbing one, or more than one of these folks, is definitely encouraged.
The Eighth Doctor is walking about and looking, for the most part, quite pleased with himself. Oh yes, there’s certainly something burning at the back of his mind, a certain door that he knows he ought to be going through, but he’s ignoring that for much lighter thoughts.
Meanwhile, his Tenth regeneration is currently located next to a TARDIS. He is finding that it may or may not be the TARDIS he himself came to the Inn with but it most certainly is a TARDIS all the same. Currently, he is inspecting the exterior, giving her a light knock before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a key.
If anyone needs him, he’s gone exploring, possibly down memory lane.
Romana is seated away from the bustle but keeping an eye on Ten, curious as to what he may be up to but keeping her commentary to herself (for now at least). She’s got other things she’s working on anyway, a small book is set in front of her, notes scribbled in the margins, but she’s finding that her attention is drifting and really, she’s not too keen on setting it back in place just yet.
Reid isn’t paying much attention to what’s going on around him. He’s taken up a spot on the floor in front of the fire with a small box of letters. Every so often he’ll cast one into the flames, before looking down at his box, wondering if he should just throw the whole thing in there at once and just have it all be done with.
Every time he winds up shaking his head, picking up another letter and repeating the process over again.
Dearly’s watching everyone from a position behind a couch. He’s been there for a while and doesn’t have many plans on moving any time soon. There’s a sketchbook in his hands and he’s been practing his drawing, sometimes doodling what was in his head and sometimes drawing the strange, although amusing people around him. He’s not the greatest, not by any means, but he’s got a little bit of skill and that was better than nothing.
And last but not least is George, who is sprawled out on the couch that Dearly is hiding behind. She’s got headphones on, music loud enough to block out any background chatter from the people around her and a book in her hands. She’s been like that for a while and there’s a cold cup of coffee on the floor next to her to prove it.
Disturbing one, or more than one of these folks, is definitely encouraged.