twelve | location: streets of taxon |
The Doctor has to start working eventually. And while nobody hates the idea of working quite like the Doctor hates working, he hates the idea of being back in prison even more than that.
So, behold the Doctor, carrying things from a replication unit to the square where he's working on his next project. At present, the things he's creating are three-foot pieces of metal. He's spitting out a few at a time, and then moving them to a large pile where he has more already stacked up.
There's also a series of papers he's had made up sitting not far off from the stacks of sheet metal. They read: MISSING: ONE SONIC SCREWDRIVER. HONESTLY, NOW, STEALING ISN'T RIGHT AT ALL, IS IT?
Oh, he's also got a plate of pink-frosted cupcakes. A Time Lord's gotta eat, y'all.
So, behold the Doctor, carrying things from a replication unit to the square where he's working on his next project. At present, the things he's creating are three-foot pieces of metal. He's spitting out a few at a time, and then moving them to a large pile where he has more already stacked up.
There's also a series of papers he's had made up sitting not far off from the stacks of sheet metal. They read: MISSING: ONE SONIC SCREWDRIVER. HONESTLY, NOW, STEALING ISN'T RIGHT AT ALL, IS IT?
Oh, he's also got a plate of pink-frosted cupcakes. A Time Lord's gotta eat, y'all.