A Question of Experience - Eleven/Romana, G, Humor
Amy and Rory were standing off to the side of the console room, observing a very animated conversation that was occurring between the Doctor and a petite, auburn-haired young woman whom they had somehow picked up during today’s universe-in-the-balance adventure. Technically, they supposed they were involved in this discussion as well, as the two speaking individuals would occasionally look over at the couple mid-sentence, as though explaining something or checking to see if they were following. They both spoke so quickly, however, that most of what was being said went entirely over the Ponds’ heads, and the bits and pieces that they did catch made little to no sense at all. They were talking about something called “regeneration” and seemed to be implying that the Doctor had inhabited several different bodies in his lifetime. The idea alone was giving Amy a headache, so she and her husband stayed silent, nodding when it seemed appropriate.
The woman, called Romana, had apparently, and much to the Doctor’s chagrin, coaxed the TARDIS into bringing up images of the latter’s past incarnations on the main monitor. Amy supposed she’d been able to override the voice keys either because she was (evidently?) the same species of alien as the Doctor, or because she’d travelled on the semi-sentient ship before and was on some sort of friendly terms with it. Whatever the reason, the pair of Time Lords now stood huddled together in front of the screen so that only a sliver of it was visible from behind them. The Ponds saw flashes of faces as Romana clicked quickly through the pictures; grey hair, then a black mop top, a hawk-like nose, an enormous smile and some sort of brightly colored scarf that she seemed to pause at, before moving on to an open, boyish face, followed by tight blonde curls, then bushy eyebrows, then long brown curls, and then she stopped, apparently having found what she was looking for. The Doctor and Romana both leaned in slightly to examine this new image, giving Amy only the merest glimpse of short cropped hair and large ears.
“I had a Northern accent with that one,” said the Doctor with a smile, gesturing at the screen. Romana giggled. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said shaking her head, but still grinning in amusement, “You just, had some ears then…bit of a nose too…” she let out another giggle.
“Hey! It wasn’t a bad face, people…liked that face.”
Romana looked up at him then, the teasing vanished from her expression, a hint of concern replacing it. She clearly wanted to know what story lay beneath the hesitancy with which he had said the word “people”. It all only lasted a moment, however, as she clicked again and a new image appeared on the screen in front of them. This man had bright eyes, spiky hair, and aquiline features.
“Oooh,” said Romana, the playful expression back in place as she appreciatively perused the headshot, “This one was rather attractive. Actually, quite pretty! Quite pretty indeed!”
The Doctor raised his eyebrows and stepped back a bit to look at her.
“What? Are you saying I’m not pretty anymore?”
Romana laughed out loud this time and looked up at him, mirth shimmering in her blue eyes.
“No, no….” she paused making a point of looking the Doctor over carefully, smirking, “I wouldn’t say you were pretty,” the Doctor opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off, “I’d classify this incarnation as leaning more towards….cute? Yes. That’s more fitting. Adorable, in a childlike sense.”
The Doctor frowned and ran a hand through his hair with a hint of self-consciousness, but quickly retorted,
“Is this another poke at how youthful I currently am?” he turned to address his companions as well,
“Why does everyone insist on making an issue out of how young I look? You should have heard Sarah Jane and Jo…” Romana was snickering by this point and he rounded on her, shaking a long finger in her face, “Oi, I wouldn’t be talking, you.” He gestured vaguely at her visage, which suggested a woman in her early twenties.
“Yes,” she replied with a smirk, smacking his hand away, “But I am the younger one, after all, so it makes sense.”
The Doctor frowned and turned away from her again,
“What I look like has nothing to do with anything anyway. It’s a question of experience! And I still have all 900 years of time and space running through this remarkable brain.” He gave a tap to the side of his head for emphasis and stood there, looking proud, as though that settled the issue for good.
Romana, however, was laughing hysterically. Amy raised her eyebrows and looked up at her husband, who shrugged.
“What?” asked the Doctor, looking genuinely confused.
“Nine hundred? Is that right?” she said, and the Doctor, much to Amy’s surprise, blushed. She hadn’t even been sure he could blush, being so much colder than a normal person, but he was clearly doing just that, and quite brilliantly. The bravado he’d been relishing in a moment before had vanished. He was looking at the floor, fidgeting.
“Don’t you mean somewhere around twelve-hundred and fifty?” the Time Lady fixed him with an accusatory and highly amused stare.
“I…well, I….err….you see…” he was practically squirming, “What’s a couple of centuries, anyway? When you’ve been around as long as I have? What does it matter?”
Amy gasped audibly and stared at the Doctor while Romana burst into another fit of laughter.
“You’ve been lying about your age, Doctor!” Romana teased, “Feeling a bit self-conscious are we?”
The Doctor stuttered and fidgeted for a moment or two longer before proclaiming, again,
“It’s a question of experience!” and scurrying off down a hallway muttering something about an equalizer that needed tuning.
The woman, called Romana, had apparently, and much to the Doctor’s chagrin, coaxed the TARDIS into bringing up images of the latter’s past incarnations on the main monitor. Amy supposed she’d been able to override the voice keys either because she was (evidently?) the same species of alien as the Doctor, or because she’d travelled on the semi-sentient ship before and was on some sort of friendly terms with it. Whatever the reason, the pair of Time Lords now stood huddled together in front of the screen so that only a sliver of it was visible from behind them. The Ponds saw flashes of faces as Romana clicked quickly through the pictures; grey hair, then a black mop top, a hawk-like nose, an enormous smile and some sort of brightly colored scarf that she seemed to pause at, before moving on to an open, boyish face, followed by tight blonde curls, then bushy eyebrows, then long brown curls, and then she stopped, apparently having found what she was looking for. The Doctor and Romana both leaned in slightly to examine this new image, giving Amy only the merest glimpse of short cropped hair and large ears.
“I had a Northern accent with that one,” said the Doctor with a smile, gesturing at the screen. Romana giggled. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said shaking her head, but still grinning in amusement, “You just, had some ears then…bit of a nose too…” she let out another giggle.
“Hey! It wasn’t a bad face, people…liked that face.”
Romana looked up at him then, the teasing vanished from her expression, a hint of concern replacing it. She clearly wanted to know what story lay beneath the hesitancy with which he had said the word “people”. It all only lasted a moment, however, as she clicked again and a new image appeared on the screen in front of them. This man had bright eyes, spiky hair, and aquiline features.
“Oooh,” said Romana, the playful expression back in place as she appreciatively perused the headshot, “This one was rather attractive. Actually, quite pretty! Quite pretty indeed!”
The Doctor raised his eyebrows and stepped back a bit to look at her.
“What? Are you saying I’m not pretty anymore?”
Romana laughed out loud this time and looked up at him, mirth shimmering in her blue eyes.
“No, no….” she paused making a point of looking the Doctor over carefully, smirking, “I wouldn’t say you were pretty,” the Doctor opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off, “I’d classify this incarnation as leaning more towards….cute? Yes. That’s more fitting. Adorable, in a childlike sense.”
The Doctor frowned and ran a hand through his hair with a hint of self-consciousness, but quickly retorted,
“Is this another poke at how youthful I currently am?” he turned to address his companions as well,
“Why does everyone insist on making an issue out of how young I look? You should have heard Sarah Jane and Jo…” Romana was snickering by this point and he rounded on her, shaking a long finger in her face, “Oi, I wouldn’t be talking, you.” He gestured vaguely at her visage, which suggested a woman in her early twenties.
“Yes,” she replied with a smirk, smacking his hand away, “But I am the younger one, after all, so it makes sense.”
The Doctor frowned and turned away from her again,
“What I look like has nothing to do with anything anyway. It’s a question of experience! And I still have all 900 years of time and space running through this remarkable brain.” He gave a tap to the side of his head for emphasis and stood there, looking proud, as though that settled the issue for good.
Romana, however, was laughing hysterically. Amy raised her eyebrows and looked up at her husband, who shrugged.
“What?” asked the Doctor, looking genuinely confused.
“Nine hundred? Is that right?” she said, and the Doctor, much to Amy’s surprise, blushed. She hadn’t even been sure he could blush, being so much colder than a normal person, but he was clearly doing just that, and quite brilliantly. The bravado he’d been relishing in a moment before had vanished. He was looking at the floor, fidgeting.
“Don’t you mean somewhere around twelve-hundred and fifty?” the Time Lady fixed him with an accusatory and highly amused stare.
“I…well, I….err….you see…” he was practically squirming, “What’s a couple of centuries, anyway? When you’ve been around as long as I have? What does it matter?”
Amy gasped audibly and stared at the Doctor while Romana burst into another fit of laughter.
“You’ve been lying about your age, Doctor!” Romana teased, “Feeling a bit self-conscious are we?”
The Doctor stuttered and fidgeted for a moment or two longer before proclaiming, again,
“It’s a question of experience!” and scurrying off down a hallway muttering something about an equalizer that needed tuning.