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.

( Read more... )

Throughout the lobby, one might hear a very peculiar noise. Granted, it's not completely unfamiliar, thanks to previous departures and arrivals, but a strange noise all the same. And in one corner of the room? Well, a blue police box will materialize into view ( Read more... )

The Fifth Doctor is getting antsy. He's ready to get going, get the TARDIS moving again. So don't mind if he's running about getting things ready. She hasn't traveled in a good while, so he's taking every precaution. There's vague thought of Reid, of whether he is coming along or not, but he keeps quiet. He'll stop for a spot of tea soon enough, ( Read more... )

Here Inn, have three different, very much infected, people.

Romana has taken up the violin, her eyes closed as she produces a soft, sad song that would sound completely unfamiliar to those from Earth but might ring a bell to a few of the Time Lords out there.

A Gallifreyian song of mourning.

Lucy is positioned in front of a piano, something she hasn’t ( Read more... )

Todd hasn't been in the Inn for a long while, but he's finally back. He looks dazed at first, not really realizing the change in scenery. He can hear his parent's voice in his ears, still, pleading with him to sign the contract against Mr. Keating ( Read more... )

Martha Jones has decided that she should leave ( Read more... )

The Eighth and Tenth Doctor are both seated near each other,, Ten sprawled out on the floor and Eight in a chair by the fire.  They had fun getting to know each other, reminiscing and all that but now it’s fallen into a comfortable silence as both of them watch the going-ons of the Inn, and the current holiday decor.

George looks a little unhappy ( Read more... )

Here Inn, have a Reid ( Read more... )

The Eighth Doctor has settled himself near the fireplace with a game that looks suspiciously like Scrabble, although all the tiles appear to be in an entirely different language (twelve of them in fact but he thought this would make the game a bit more challenging).

George is curled up near the front of the Inn, eyes closed but not sleeping. Her ( Read more... )

Reid has been unusually social as of late and is currently taking some time for himself, sitting close to the fire and paging through a copy of Le Morte D'Arthur. He's read it before but sometimes there's nothing like holding a book in your hands and reading it.

The bar is currently housing a George who is currently solving all her problems ( Read more... )