Suitable Distractions [open]
It was late afternoon, almost sunset on the tropical planet of Zokez II, the cloudless sky mellowing with hints of gold and mauve, the tide receding as much as possible with the gravitational equivalent of an extra moon now in orbit; most of the tidier shops were closing for the day, the stalls had long since packed up and headed inland, but across the street and deep into the square the Doctor spotted neon lights and flickering signs leading to shady corners and seedy taverns, where the late night crowd was beginning to gather in much tighter packs than the general mass of afternoon. This left plenty of open pathways, so long as one stuck to the right circles (and consequently didn’t plan on going anywhere in particular)-pathways which the Doctor was taking full advantage of in the face of yet another sleepless night.
Surely he was disappointed by recent events, yes, perhaps even more so by the idea that this time he was enclosed, this adventure he would have to play out in a normal, linear fashion, taking the path too well trodden by the more boring members of the universe not able to hop through the fourth dimension, as it were. But, as with what usually occurs with this incarnation, a chance for exploration and adventure quickly drowned out his worries, replacing them with youthful enthusiasm and breathless exclamations to random passerby.
Oh, and shopping. There was shopping involved.
Seeing as the TARDIS, though present, was currently inaccessible, the Doctor took it upon himself to gather some necessary supplies and what luxuries he could afford with his ‘pocket change’. Said pocket change went quite a long way, actually; the Doctor found that he was not only able to purchase more than enough electronic devices to keep him occupied for at least another month, if not more should Engineering provide him with a steady supply of parts to tinker with, but he was also even able to look around for some clothes in a vain attempt to rebuild his usual outfit. Now obviously there were stores with striped slacks and long-sleeved jumpers and whatnot, but in the end they all fell short of the Doctor’s expectations, and he ended up leaving with only a simple white dress shirt (he was lucky to find one with a red interior, but alas, no question marks upon the collar) and a pair of plimsolls. Well, those and a far more precious prize.
A casual pass into a sporting goods store-perhaps in the hopes of finding a more substantial uniform-had the Doctor come across a surprisingly well-made cricket bat, brand new and heftily priced. It took the rest of his allowance and quite a bit of bartering to obtain it, but it was definitely a worthwhile acquisition. Even if he was able to get into the TARDIS, that old bat rotting away in there hadn’t been oiled in several centuries and would probably break in half if it was ever used in any serious competition. This was for the best, yeah?
So now, strolling along the deserted pathway, a small bottle of linseed oil and a dirty handkerchief poking out of his coat pocket, the Doctor was busily tapping away at his prize with a bat mallet and a placid smile on his face. He might’ve been humming, but it was difficult to tell over the rhythmic pounding of willow wood and the background chatter of alien gulls. He was, all in all, extremely happy with himself, this new development, and with being able to completely forget that the rest of the world existed.
Perhaps someone should come remind him that noisily knocking in a cricket bat is not the most efficient way to escape the outside world, as the outside world will often be curious enough to investigate such racket in one form or another.
Surely he was disappointed by recent events, yes, perhaps even more so by the idea that this time he was enclosed, this adventure he would have to play out in a normal, linear fashion, taking the path too well trodden by the more boring members of the universe not able to hop through the fourth dimension, as it were. But, as with what usually occurs with this incarnation, a chance for exploration and adventure quickly drowned out his worries, replacing them with youthful enthusiasm and breathless exclamations to random passerby.
Oh, and shopping. There was shopping involved.
Seeing as the TARDIS, though present, was currently inaccessible, the Doctor took it upon himself to gather some necessary supplies and what luxuries he could afford with his ‘pocket change’. Said pocket change went quite a long way, actually; the Doctor found that he was not only able to purchase more than enough electronic devices to keep him occupied for at least another month, if not more should Engineering provide him with a steady supply of parts to tinker with, but he was also even able to look around for some clothes in a vain attempt to rebuild his usual outfit. Now obviously there were stores with striped slacks and long-sleeved jumpers and whatnot, but in the end they all fell short of the Doctor’s expectations, and he ended up leaving with only a simple white dress shirt (he was lucky to find one with a red interior, but alas, no question marks upon the collar) and a pair of plimsolls. Well, those and a far more precious prize.
A casual pass into a sporting goods store-perhaps in the hopes of finding a more substantial uniform-had the Doctor come across a surprisingly well-made cricket bat, brand new and heftily priced. It took the rest of his allowance and quite a bit of bartering to obtain it, but it was definitely a worthwhile acquisition. Even if he was able to get into the TARDIS, that old bat rotting away in there hadn’t been oiled in several centuries and would probably break in half if it was ever used in any serious competition. This was for the best, yeah?
So now, strolling along the deserted pathway, a small bottle of linseed oil and a dirty handkerchief poking out of his coat pocket, the Doctor was busily tapping away at his prize with a bat mallet and a placid smile on his face. He might’ve been humming, but it was difficult to tell over the rhythmic pounding of willow wood and the background chatter of alien gulls. He was, all in all, extremely happy with himself, this new development, and with being able to completely forget that the rest of the world existed.
Perhaps someone should come remind him that noisily knocking in a cricket bat is not the most efficient way to escape the outside world, as the outside world will often be curious enough to investigate such racket in one form or another.