The Doctor turns slightly at her touch, as if remembering oh, right, human; Eva Salazar; the Woman Who Duels Libraries. One of his newer friends that he hasn't had the chance to pop in all over her timeline just yet. He peers at her as if for a split second he has trouble placing who she is, especially given how many friends he has over time and space and he does wonder how Ben is doing these days. He blinks, the fog from the Nothing Forest clearing again as he focuses on Eva. Present. She's the present. He literally hasn't seen Ben or Polly for centuries, so --
"It's not that easy." The Doctor sounds nettled. "Not just anyone can do this to the TARDIS. It's supposed to be interesting here, Eva. Not - not snow and there used to be goats grazing in that clearing over there, and over there should be a hot air balloon."
Nevermind the vague impression in the back of his head that behind all that dullness, the sort that presses down on you, is the niggling feeling that something Large and Unpleasant is watching them.
It wasn't there before.
The list of people capable of doing this is small and most of them are dead. Should be dead. He thinks they're dead. It's all this terribly dry, stuffy history and he doesn't care to bore Eva with the details that he'd rather keep to himself for the time being. He pats Eva's hand, offering her one of those quiet private smiles of his, and leads her down the path that's spiraling toward the little dock at the edge of a great big expanse of water. Ah, and yes! His eyes light up. The boat's still there! Granted, it...looks like someone was making it and wandered off when something more interesting popped up, but at least it's here! He jogs the last chunk to the bobbing dock, stopping right before the water's edge and turning to Eva with a flourish that's more the Doctor she knows and not the bored-out-of-his-mind old man.
He points at the little dinghy. "Our ride! It's mostly finished. It'll take two."
Eva, he expects that if you can face a man-eating library, this ought to be easy. Besides, a boat ride between two friends! He's rather looking forward to it, the Doctor beaming at Eva.
Eva's not quite sure what barometer the Doctor uses to determine 'interesting', given that they've already found a shoe tree and been attack by malevolent plants, but it's certainly not hers. She finds the entire forest rather interesting, but then again she lived in Southern California. Snow is relatively unusual to her.
That said, she would agree with the Doctor. There is a vague sense of foreboding lingering around the periphery, like something she can't quite focus her eyes on but knows is there. Like it exists in the blanks between objects, the very invisible air, the negative spaces between the trees and their spidery frozen branches.
She called this place the Phantom Tollbooth because it was a book she read Marco, at first, and because the blue box reminded her less of a police object than of a tollbooth. She insisted on keeping the name because it proved to be a more accurate representation than she'd imagined. A magical, nonsensical world that, though its sense of wonder, imbued the rest of the world with similar beauty.
She'd thought that would be the one upside to seeing space, but she was so locked into her own despair at the time - and despair is too kind a word for it, but for all humanity's pain, they've never found a phrase to describe that sort of absolute hopelessness - and she couldn't see any of the glory of space travel and other worlds.
She didn't see the stars. She saw the blackness between them. The negative space.
"A boat!" Eva's face lights up a little. Enthusiasm shines through her expression, which has been getting gradually more pensive and melancholy as they walked. Maybe that's how the forest will kill them, with melancholy and the loneliness of walking beside another person lost in their own head. "It's finished enough for me. Where do you think we're taking it to?"
The Doctor is downright delighted to see Eva taking to the dinghy more than the dumbwaiter. Lovely! He's happy to say that she has the intelligence to know a perfectly good boat when she saw one and she's not going to be one of those humans about it.
"Anywhere!" the Doctor says. He rubs his hands together as he balances on the bobbing dock they're standing on, seeming to get some of that old life back in him now that they're near the edge of the Nothing Forest and Eva's approving of his dinghy. Maybe it was a boredom project, not quite complete, but still. "If we head toward south, we might be able to land near the junkyard and that ought to lead back to the Zero Room."
Come to think of it, he's sure he hasn't shown her the Zero Room yet. Jamie's seen it. But it's nice and quiet and full of bubbles and he thinks Eva might like it after the Nothing Forest and the man-eater library. But that's all in the future and he hopes she's had some sort of sailing experience plus swimming experience, just in case, because you never did know when you might end up going for a little dip. Maybe it’s worth mentioning that there could be all sorts of Things swimming around in the water. The truth is even he doesn’t know. It’s not as if he pops down here all that often! Besides, if he says anything know, Eva might balk. She’s not a very balk-prone human (he likes that), although it’s possible there’s a point where even she might have second thoughts, he just hasn’t discovered what it is yet. Hopefully he won’t.
He never could resist humans like that.
The Doctor throws his leg over the side of the dinghy, reaching down and unfolding what turns out to be a tiny, almost downright adorable sail. It telescopes out and up in brass sections. Once he finishes with the mast, the Doctor holds out his hand to help Eva into the boat. It’s just large enough for two, complete with paddles and a long-forgotten lunch from several centuries ago. (Might want to avoid sitting in that.)
'Anywhere' isn't quite the answer Eva wants to hear, as it's about as useful as the Doctor's response that she should watch out for anything, but her mood lifts as she steps onto the dinghy. Anywhere.
Anywhere is freedom. A boat is freedom, just them and the currents, drifting, aimless, like puppets without strings. Maybe they can go to the junkyard, or maybe they can take some solace in the relative peace of the river, if it's to be found. And if not, adventure on the water appeals to Eva much more than adventure on land.
Were she a less proud woman she might shed a tear.
"Did I ever tell you I used to sail? Well, not me, specifically. Edriss did, but I think that might have been the only time she had me where I was truly happy." There's a certain calmness to her face now, a sense of being in her element. "I don't believe you've told me about the Zero Room."
She peers into the water and paws at it with her paddle. Finally, deciding that for the moment it's clear enough, she sets the paddle aside and reaches her arm in. "I don't suppose you think it's safe for swimming. It is warm."
He busies himself with turning the brass screws and knobs on the mast. "No. Loads of things you haven't told me like your favorite color or even your favorite food."
The Doctor tightens a few knobs at random. Edriss. Edriss. The name doesn't sound familiar, the Doctor glancing around the mast to shoot the back of Eva's head a Look and a thoughtful frown, both at once because he's wonderful at multi-tasking like that. He wasn't lying when he said there was so much he didn't know about the human, other than that deep sense of almost animal hurt about her. That and a good sense of adventuring. This, he thinks, is her opening up slightly. The Doctor files away that name as something Important; Eva's Past. Female, obviously. Human, alien or Other (yes, Other is a real category) remains to be seen. He opens his mouth to ask who this Edriss is when he notices how Eva is pushing the paddle into the water. It’s almost like she’s in a world of her own, looking much younger than he’s seen her before.
He snaps his mouth shut. Tact. Not his favorite thing, tact! But sometimes - he’ll grudgingly admit - there is a time for it and he has that niggle that this is one of those times. Maybe. Possibly.
The Doctor leans away from the mast to peer into the water after her hand. “Well, can’t say for sure if there are sea monsters. But! I’m sure it’s shark-less, so there’s that.” He gives her a winning smile.
Sea monsters don’t swim this close to shore, so he thinks it’s oh, about mostly-over half safe. Just so she knows. The Doctor flops down on the bench next to Eva, reaching up to loosen his bowties as the shore gradually gets further away and the weather loses some of that chill from the Nothing Forest.
"You didn't guess it was green?" Eva tends to wear green whenever she can. Today her shirt is a pale turquoise leaning more towards green than blue, and her hairclip is a green and gold leaf. She laughs. "Of course it's green. What other color would it be? Blue?"
She peers into the water, ignoring the Doctor's winning smile, although she suspects he's doing it. He does have a nice smile. He tends to just give it out, she thinks, like some resource he'll never deplete. She likes that.
While he loosens his bowtie, she takes the revolver from her holster, pops out the bullets, and lays it down on a flat surface in the boat. A peace offering, almost, although she'd still break the Doctor's hand if he tried to move it. She kicks off her new shoes, too, though they're damp already with melted ice and snow, and pulls the clip from her hair. Then she leans over the edge of the boat and flops backwards into the water, so suddenly it may look like an accident.
Under the water, she blinks her eyes open through a net of flowing hair and stinging water. Nothing, as far as she can see, though she swears the water's clearer below the surface than it looks from above. She breaches again, hair like a messy wet helmet dribbling from her skull, smile wide as she stares up at the Doctor.
What's wrong with blue? The Doctor thinks that's the natural choice, given how beautifully blue blue is and at any rate, Eva is suddenly falling back into the water that is torn between whether it wants to be blue or green or blue-green/green/blue (funny distinction), the Doctor rushing to the edge of the dinghy and nearly tipping himself into the sea right after Eva. The side of the boat dips over dangerously under his weight as he clings to the railing and leans over.
Eva, you look like a wet cat. The water utterly kills her hair so that it's plastered flat against her skull and he has to say, he's seen even wet cats have better days. But she's grinning up at him, this grin that he can't help but find innocent because she's so young and - and human, and it's a downright infectious thing, an Eva Salazar smile! It's enough to make him pretend not to see the gun, or at least not consider (too much) how easy it would be to accidentally drop it off the side of the boat into the depths.
"Why no sharks? Or is this one of those rhetorical question things? They're really just questions," the Doctor sniffs. He bobs his head, trying to peer past Eva for any sign of sharks and/or anything of the sea monster variety.
"Why not join me? Besides that we need someone to attend the boat." Honestly, taking a relaxing swim through water that may or may not contain mortal threats is probably not her brightest idea, but she's riding a little high on having survived not one, but two bizarre threats in the TARDIS.
She ducks back under the water and, while she's down there, rubs the last of the makeup off her face. When she opens them again she sees a shoal of glittering fish a few yards away, but on closer examination, they appear to be cooking utensils mimicking fish and not actual creatures. Maybe it's a trick of the light.
Then she swims under the boat, appears on the other side, and flicks water at the Doctor's head. "You'd like it down here. It's very you."
That's true, except he's certain that if he has a word or two or several (or a couple), the dinghy will be quite understanding and wait for them without sailing off on its own. Fairly certain. Certain enough to frown at Eva, nose crinkling at the water sprinkling his face, the Doctor starts to shrug out of his jacket to prove a point. Off comes the jacket as he works at his buttons and braces. Speaking of braces, brace for it, Eva, because you're going to get one of those rare moments that might be seared into your eyeballs and the memory centers in that highly-evolved monkey brain of yours. The Doctor's shirt flaps off and smacks into the bench.
You have now seen the Doctor shirtless, Eva Salazar.
Take a moment to adjust to it.
The Doctor is all ridiculous skinniness as he turns on the cramped deck, holding his footing and kicking off his boots. They thunk against the wood The trousers stay, thankfully. He balances near the edge of the dinghy, makes sure Eva is watching, holds his nose with his fingers and takes a picture-perfect cannonball into the water.
A few long moments later he surfaces next to Eva, squirting out a stream of water, his hair in his eyes. "No sea monsters so far! Can't hurt to check twice."
Don't ask how he's treading the water. It's a long tradition on some asteroid Eva hasn't ever heard of, and looks like he ought to be drowning but isn't. The Doctor flails around as he turns in the water to check their bearings, pleased that Eva is a decently aquatic human on top of everything else. Renaissance Woman. Woman-person. Earthling, resident of the Milky Way. She ought to smile more. Bit of a toothy smile but he likes it.
Eva raises her eyebrows, blinking water out of her eyelashes. She shakes her head at the Doctor. How odd it is to see him with less poofy hair. He could almost pass for a typical human and not an eccentric one, if not for the flailing and the fact that he still uses his fingers to plug his nose."You look like my husband ten years ago."
That isn't a compliment.
Eva dips back under the water, more at home there than anywhere on the ground. Weightless, unrestrained by the snares of gravity and age and pain. No sea monsters as far as she can see, although the cutlery fish are coming a bit closer. She hopes the forks and knives among them don't have sharp teeth she can't see.
The Doctor's kicking up a bit of a froth. She surfaces again, takes a deep breath, and dives down beneath him. She reaches up and tugs his ankle, playing the age-old game of "I'm a shark, rawr" with him.
Her smile, shark-like, like any of the rest of her, is indeed all teeth.
It might not be a compliment but even so, the Doctor has enough time and presence of mind to shoot her a baffled, almost wary look. Very stern look! Possibly a bit scared. He might just be remembering that time Amy had a go at him; it's the sort of thing to make a very big impression. His eyebrows scrunch at her as he does one of those frowns. Twice might be more than he's willing to handle right now, not that Eva isn't a lovely woman (most of the time)...it's just she's, well, human! Sometimes he means it as an insult. Other times, it's the highest of compliments. Depends on his mood.
The Doctor continues to tread water the Aonh style, third Tier, when Eva sinks under the water, presumably to have another look at the cutlery shoal wiggling closer to investigate.
Odd, he doesn't remember putting in a cutlery shoal! It's possible he's forgotten. Old age does that to you! Eva ought to name it since she found them, it's only --
The Doctor gives an undignified squeak yelp sound that most certainly is none of the above when he suddenly feels someone grabbing at his ankles. They're just as skinny as the rest of him. Now they give a surprised little kick as he ducks his head in, deciding that at the very least he wants to see if there's an entire kitchen there.
Eva. Toothy smile and what if that had been a real kitchen nibbling him? He might not believe it next time because of Eva! The Doctor Who Cries Wolf. Kitchen-wolf-slash-shark to be precise. The Doctor resurfaces and tosses his wet hair out of his eyes.
"Enjoying yourself? Don't answer, smile like that tells me all I need to know!" The Doctor continues that awkward flail/flounder of his. It's one of the fastest strokes in the Blue Rim Nebula's arm, so he'd advise against Eva getting any funny ideas about racing him. Not unless she wants to be terribly embarrassed! "Did you name the shoal? Probably haven't seen a proper human in decades! Centuries? Probably centuries."
Maybe longer. Either way, at least they're not trying to poke her in all sorts of awkward places to see if she was done.
"I'll have to think of a terribly punny name for them." She does an underwater barrel roll and comes up again. She forgets, fairly often, how nice it is to be able to move. She's not just floating or swimming, she's dancing, some instinctive dance that only her bones know the steps to.
She pops her head back up again. "Platies. Like the little orange fish but, you know, they go on plates."
Although as she ducks back under again, it does seem like the cutlery is getting a bit more aggressive. And while the spoons are fine, she sees a school of serrated knives make a turn for them thirty feet away.
"Doc, it might be time to get back onto shore, don't you think?" She strokes back to the dinghy and holds out a hand to help him back up before she rescues herself from the platies.
Ooh, that is good! The Doctor feels jealous. Platies! Why didn't he think of that? It's downright brilliant! Platies. He rolls the word around, tries it on for size like a hat, and decides he'll have to add it into the Oxford dictionary next time he drops in.
He flail-treads water as Eva ducks her head back under to enjoy her shoal of platies, the Doctor shading his eyes and glancing around. A few white clouds are scooting across the sky, cottony wisps that are wisely staying away from the airspace over the Nothing Forest. Very smart! Despite the library still out there hungering for human, the Doctor has to say that of the traps he's seen in the TARDIS, so far he thinks that Nothing Forest is probably the worst: you could wander around in there for months, years, your mind withering in on itself and you'd be aware of it happening the whole time! It's almost brilliant in how cruel it is.
The Doctor's distracted as one of the platies bumps against his leg, glancing down just in time for Eva to surface again. "What? Oh! Yes, back to the dinghy. Platies," he mutters to himself, under his breath. "It's almost too good."
He flounders back to the boat, accepting her hand as he flops back over the side and onto the deck. It's less of a flop and more of a skinny wet slither. Eva's sense of self-preservation proves to be right on the mark. There's the sound of some of the cutlery trying to dig into the wood of the dinghy, a scratching sound that eventually goes away as they discover they can't get too far. The Doctor heaves himself onto the bench, groping about for his braces.
"We'll probably have to make a few stops. Human metabolisms, that sort of thing. Food. Stuff like that." He waves his hand at the vague idea of Stuff. "I didn't get to install a proper hyper-drive on this, so..."
She follows him up, surprisingly strong despite favoring one shoulder. She's kept herself in shape since being freed. The body requires upkeep. If she's bound to this one, she needs to keep it fit.
Eva has much less interest in the sky than she does in the water. She even dangles her fingers in still, taunting the platies. As the knives come up to attack her fingers she jerks her hand up, barely out the way, seeing if they can jump. When they don't, she sticks her hand back in and wiggles her fingertips, continuing to tease them as she leans back and talks to the Doctor.
She grins. She's clearly pleased he approves of the name. Daniel Jackson could take some notes on appreciating her sparkling wit.
"Food?" She stretches out in the boat, taking up a little of the Doctor's personal space, but less like flirting and more like a cat presuming the whole ship belongs to her. "How long do you expect we'll be lost? I'll start to miss the creature comforts, eventually."
After a long while, though. The presence of a boat and intelligent conversation elevates this above her months living with the Hork-Bajir in the woods. "Hyper-drive?"
The Doctor combs his fingers through his hair, patting himself dry with his bunched-up shirt. He doesn't seem to mind her taking up what bit of boat she can find, instead glancing at her as he struggles back into his shirt and casts about for his bowtie, one hand reaching back and fumbling for his braces. It's like a one-man version of Twister sans mat and logic.
"Could be awhile. Depends on the wind and if things have shifted more than I've estimated," the Doctor shrugs, the I get lost every other weekend type of shrug. It's meant to be reassuring. "If we had a hyper-drive, I'd say a matter of hours."
He frowns at her as he locates his other brace, pulling it over his scrawny shoulder with a snap. He could spend all day thinking on Ifs and Buts and Well, You Coulds. They're further out at sea now, the water lapping against the hull of the dinghy and the sail puffed out and doing its job quite well despite all that time off-duty. The Doctor continues to fuss around with the boat, mostly because he needs to keep busy, partially because if he doesn't, the ship's components which might have been hobbled together out of several interesting but volatile components will start to set off a chain reaction and blow the deck out from under them. Makes for an interesting boat ride, at least!
It's starting to get dark when the Doctor pauses in his fiddling to pop back up next to Eva, his sonic screwdriver in his hand.
"Night sailing or pop off to get some sleep?" he asks, as if picking up a conversation they haven't had yet. "You humans haven't figured out how to sleep with one eye open yet, have you?"
Perhaps Eva should have thought more closely on the idea of getting wet before staying still on a boat for a long time in cold weather. She's just about chilled, although she supposes if it becomes a problem she can drop back into the water to warm up and hope not to become a snack of the floating cutlery. The water's warmer than the air by a good margin; the last traces of light catch on wafts of evaporation, miniature steam billows dancing over the surface and being buffeted by the small waves.
"No, not yet. Won't you be bored to death while I sleep? Unless you're incredibly interested in my snoring."
She wraps her arms around herself, chilled. "But I'm competent enough for some night sailing. That's how I died, you know. The first time."
"It's not that easy." The Doctor sounds nettled. "Not just anyone can do this to the TARDIS. It's supposed to be interesting here, Eva. Not - not snow and there used to be goats grazing in that clearing over there, and over there should be a hot air balloon."
Nevermind the vague impression in the back of his head that behind all that dullness, the sort that presses down on you, is the niggling feeling that something Large and Unpleasant is watching them.
It wasn't there before.
The list of people capable of doing this is small and most of them are dead. Should be dead. He thinks they're dead. It's all this terribly dry, stuffy history and he doesn't care to bore Eva with the details that he'd rather keep to himself for the time being. He pats Eva's hand, offering her one of those quiet private smiles of his, and leads her down the path that's spiraling toward the little dock at the edge of a great big expanse of water. Ah, and yes! His eyes light up. The boat's still there! Granted, it...looks like someone was making it and wandered off when something more interesting popped up, but at least it's here! He jogs the last chunk to the bobbing dock, stopping right before the water's edge and turning to Eva with a flourish that's more the Doctor she knows and not the bored-out-of-his-mind old man.
He points at the little dinghy. "Our ride! It's mostly finished. It'll take two."
Eva, he expects that if you can face a man-eating library, this ought to be easy. Besides, a boat ride between two friends! He's rather looking forward to it, the Doctor beaming at Eva.
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That said, she would agree with the Doctor. There is a vague sense of foreboding lingering around the periphery, like something she can't quite focus her eyes on but knows is there. Like it exists in the blanks between objects, the very invisible air, the negative spaces between the trees and their spidery frozen branches.
She called this place the Phantom Tollbooth because it was a book she read Marco, at first, and because the blue box reminded her less of a police object than of a tollbooth. She insisted on keeping the name because it proved to be a more accurate representation than she'd imagined. A magical, nonsensical world that, though its sense of wonder, imbued the rest of the world with similar beauty.
She'd thought that would be the one upside to seeing space, but she was so locked into her own despair at the time - and despair is too kind a word for it, but for all humanity's pain, they've never found a phrase to describe that sort of absolute hopelessness - and she couldn't see any of the glory of space travel and other worlds.
She didn't see the stars. She saw the blackness between them. The negative space.
"A boat!" Eva's face lights up a little. Enthusiasm shines through her expression, which has been getting gradually more pensive and melancholy as they walked. Maybe that's how the forest will kill them, with melancholy and the loneliness of walking beside another person lost in their own head. "It's finished enough for me. Where do you think we're taking it to?"
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"Anywhere!" the Doctor says. He rubs his hands together as he balances on the bobbing dock they're standing on, seeming to get some of that old life back in him now that they're near the edge of the Nothing Forest and Eva's approving of his dinghy. Maybe it was a boredom project, not quite complete, but still. "If we head toward south, we might be able to land near the junkyard and that ought to lead back to the Zero Room."
Come to think of it, he's sure he hasn't shown her the Zero Room yet. Jamie's seen it. But it's nice and quiet and full of bubbles and he thinks Eva might like it after the Nothing Forest and the man-eater library. But that's all in the future and he hopes she's had some sort of sailing experience plus swimming experience, just in case, because you never did know when you might end up going for a little dip. Maybe it’s worth mentioning that there could be all sorts of Things swimming around in the water. The truth is even he doesn’t know. It’s not as if he pops down here all that often! Besides, if he says anything know, Eva might balk. She’s not a very balk-prone human (he likes that), although it’s possible there’s a point where even she might have second thoughts, he just hasn’t discovered what it is yet. Hopefully he won’t.
He never could resist humans like that.
The Doctor throws his leg over the side of the dinghy, reaching down and unfolding what turns out to be a tiny, almost downright adorable sail. It telescopes out and up in brass sections. Once he finishes with the mast, the Doctor holds out his hand to help Eva into the boat. It’s just large enough for two, complete with paddles and a long-forgotten lunch from several centuries ago. (Might want to avoid sitting in that.)
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Anywhere is freedom. A boat is freedom, just them and the currents, drifting, aimless, like puppets without strings. Maybe they can go to the junkyard, or maybe they can take some solace in the relative peace of the river, if it's to be found. And if not, adventure on the water appeals to Eva much more than adventure on land.
Were she a less proud woman she might shed a tear.
"Did I ever tell you I used to sail? Well, not me, specifically. Edriss did, but I think that might have been the only time she had me where I was truly happy." There's a certain calmness to her face now, a sense of being in her element. "I don't believe you've told me about the Zero Room."
She peers into the water and paws at it with her paddle. Finally, deciding that for the moment it's clear enough, she sets the paddle aside and reaches her arm in. "I don't suppose you think it's safe for swimming. It is warm."
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The Doctor tightens a few knobs at random. Edriss. Edriss. The name doesn't sound familiar, the Doctor glancing around the mast to shoot the back of Eva's head a Look and a thoughtful frown, both at once because he's wonderful at multi-tasking like that. He wasn't lying when he said there was so much he didn't know about the human, other than that deep sense of almost animal hurt about her. That and a good sense of adventuring. This, he thinks, is her opening up slightly. The Doctor files away that name as something Important; Eva's Past. Female, obviously. Human, alien or Other (yes, Other is a real category) remains to be seen. He opens his mouth to ask who this Edriss is when he notices how Eva is pushing the paddle into the water. It’s almost like she’s in a world of her own, looking much younger than he’s seen her before.
He snaps his mouth shut. Tact. Not his favorite thing, tact! But sometimes - he’ll grudgingly admit - there is a time for it and he has that niggle that this is one of those times. Maybe. Possibly.
The Doctor leans away from the mast to peer into the water after her hand. “Well, can’t say for sure if there are sea monsters. But! I’m sure it’s shark-less, so there’s that.” He gives her a winning smile.
Sea monsters don’t swim this close to shore, so he thinks it’s oh, about mostly-over half safe. Just so she knows. The Doctor flops down on the bench next to Eva, reaching up to loosen his bowties as the shore gradually gets further away and the weather loses some of that chill from the Nothing Forest.
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She peers into the water, ignoring the Doctor's winning smile, although she suspects he's doing it. He does have a nice smile. He tends to just give it out, she thinks, like some resource he'll never deplete. She likes that.
While he loosens his bowtie, she takes the revolver from her holster, pops out the bullets, and lays it down on a flat surface in the boat. A peace offering, almost, although she'd still break the Doctor's hand if he tried to move it. She kicks off her new shoes, too, though they're damp already with melted ice and snow, and pulls the clip from her hair. Then she leans over the edge of the boat and flops backwards into the water, so suddenly it may look like an accident.
Under the water, she blinks her eyes open through a net of flowing hair and stinging water. Nothing, as far as she can see, though she swears the water's clearer below the surface than it looks from above. She breaches again, hair like a messy wet helmet dribbling from her skull, smile wide as she stares up at the Doctor.
"Why the hell not?"
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Eva, you look like a wet cat. The water utterly kills her hair so that it's plastered flat against her skull and he has to say, he's seen even wet cats have better days. But she's grinning up at him, this grin that he can't help but find innocent because she's so young and - and human, and it's a downright infectious thing, an Eva Salazar smile! It's enough to make him pretend not to see the gun, or at least not consider (too much) how easy it would be to accidentally drop it off the side of the boat into the depths.
"Why no sharks? Or is this one of those rhetorical question things? They're really just questions," the Doctor sniffs. He bobs his head, trying to peer past Eva for any sign of sharks and/or anything of the sea monster variety.
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She ducks back under the water and, while she's down there, rubs the last of the makeup off her face. When she opens them again she sees a shoal of glittering fish a few yards away, but on closer examination, they appear to be cooking utensils mimicking fish and not actual creatures. Maybe it's a trick of the light.
Then she swims under the boat, appears on the other side, and flicks water at the Doctor's head. "You'd like it down here. It's very you."
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You have now seen the Doctor shirtless, Eva Salazar.
Take a moment to adjust to it.
The Doctor is all ridiculous skinniness as he turns on the cramped deck, holding his footing and kicking off his boots. They thunk against the wood The trousers stay, thankfully. He balances near the edge of the dinghy, makes sure Eva is watching, holds his nose with his fingers and takes a picture-perfect cannonball into the water.
A few long moments later he surfaces next to Eva, squirting out a stream of water, his hair in his eyes. "No sea monsters so far! Can't hurt to check twice."
Don't ask how he's treading the water. It's a long tradition on some asteroid Eva hasn't ever heard of, and looks like he ought to be drowning but isn't. The Doctor flails around as he turns in the water to check their bearings, pleased that Eva is a decently aquatic human on top of everything else. Renaissance Woman. Woman-person. Earthling, resident of the Milky Way. She ought to smile more. Bit of a toothy smile but he likes it.
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That isn't a compliment.
Eva dips back under the water, more at home there than anywhere on the ground. Weightless, unrestrained by the snares of gravity and age and pain. No sea monsters as far as she can see, although the cutlery fish are coming a bit closer. She hopes the forks and knives among them don't have sharp teeth she can't see.
The Doctor's kicking up a bit of a froth. She surfaces again, takes a deep breath, and dives down beneath him. She reaches up and tugs his ankle, playing the age-old game of "I'm a shark, rawr" with him.
Her smile, shark-like, like any of the rest of her, is indeed all teeth.
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The Doctor continues to tread water the Aonh style, third Tier, when Eva sinks under the water, presumably to have another look at the cutlery shoal wiggling closer to investigate.
Odd, he doesn't remember putting in a cutlery shoal! It's possible he's forgotten. Old age does that to you! Eva ought to name it since she found them, it's only --
The Doctor gives an undignified squeak yelp sound that most certainly is none of the above when he suddenly feels someone grabbing at his ankles. They're just as skinny as the rest of him. Now they give a surprised little kick as he ducks his head in, deciding that at the very least he wants to see if there's an entire kitchen there.
Eva. Toothy smile and what if that had been a real kitchen nibbling him? He might not believe it next time because of Eva! The Doctor Who Cries Wolf. Kitchen-wolf-slash-shark to be precise. The Doctor resurfaces and tosses his wet hair out of his eyes.
"Enjoying yourself? Don't answer, smile like that tells me all I need to know!" The Doctor continues that awkward flail/flounder of his. It's one of the fastest strokes in the Blue Rim Nebula's arm, so he'd advise against Eva getting any funny ideas about racing him. Not unless she wants to be terribly embarrassed! "Did you name the shoal? Probably haven't seen a proper human in decades! Centuries? Probably centuries."
Maybe longer. Either way, at least they're not trying to poke her in all sorts of awkward places to see if she was done.
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She pops her head back up again. "Platies. Like the little orange fish but, you know, they go on plates."
Although as she ducks back under again, it does seem like the cutlery is getting a bit more aggressive. And while the spoons are fine, she sees a school of serrated knives make a turn for them thirty feet away.
"Doc, it might be time to get back onto shore, don't you think?" She strokes back to the dinghy and holds out a hand to help him back up before she rescues herself from the platies.
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He flail-treads water as Eva ducks her head back under to enjoy her shoal of platies, the Doctor shading his eyes and glancing around. A few white clouds are scooting across the sky, cottony wisps that are wisely staying away from the airspace over the Nothing Forest. Very smart! Despite the library still out there hungering for human, the Doctor has to say that of the traps he's seen in the TARDIS, so far he thinks that Nothing Forest is probably the worst: you could wander around in there for months, years, your mind withering in on itself and you'd be aware of it happening the whole time! It's almost brilliant in how cruel it is.
The Doctor's distracted as one of the platies bumps against his leg, glancing down just in time for Eva to surface again. "What? Oh! Yes, back to the dinghy. Platies," he mutters to himself, under his breath. "It's almost too good."
He flounders back to the boat, accepting her hand as he flops back over the side and onto the deck. It's less of a flop and more of a skinny wet slither. Eva's sense of self-preservation proves to be right on the mark. There's the sound of some of the cutlery trying to dig into the wood of the dinghy, a scratching sound that eventually goes away as they discover they can't get too far. The Doctor heaves himself onto the bench, groping about for his braces.
"We'll probably have to make a few stops. Human metabolisms, that sort of thing. Food. Stuff like that." He waves his hand at the vague idea of Stuff. "I didn't get to install a proper hyper-drive on this, so..."
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Eva has much less interest in the sky than she does in the water. She even dangles her fingers in still, taunting the platies. As the knives come up to attack her fingers she jerks her hand up, barely out the way, seeing if they can jump. When they don't, she sticks her hand back in and wiggles her fingertips, continuing to tease them as she leans back and talks to the Doctor.
She grins. She's clearly pleased he approves of the name. Daniel Jackson could take some notes on appreciating her sparkling wit.
"Food?" She stretches out in the boat, taking up a little of the Doctor's personal space, but less like flirting and more like a cat presuming the whole ship belongs to her. "How long do you expect we'll be lost? I'll start to miss the creature comforts, eventually."
After a long while, though. The presence of a boat and intelligent conversation elevates this above her months living with the Hork-Bajir in the woods. "Hyper-drive?"
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"Could be awhile. Depends on the wind and if things have shifted more than I've estimated," the Doctor shrugs, the I get lost every other weekend type of shrug. It's meant to be reassuring. "If we had a hyper-drive, I'd say a matter of hours."
He frowns at her as he locates his other brace, pulling it over his scrawny shoulder with a snap. He could spend all day thinking on Ifs and Buts and Well, You Coulds. They're further out at sea now, the water lapping against the hull of the dinghy and the sail puffed out and doing its job quite well despite all that time off-duty. The Doctor continues to fuss around with the boat, mostly because he needs to keep busy, partially because if he doesn't, the ship's components which might have been hobbled together out of several interesting but volatile components will start to set off a chain reaction and blow the deck out from under them. Makes for an interesting boat ride, at least!
It's starting to get dark when the Doctor pauses in his fiddling to pop back up next to Eva, his sonic screwdriver in his hand.
"Night sailing or pop off to get some sleep?" he asks, as if picking up a conversation they haven't had yet. "You humans haven't figured out how to sleep with one eye open yet, have you?"
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Perhaps Eva should have thought more closely on the idea of getting wet before staying still on a boat for a long time in cold weather. She's just about chilled, although she supposes if it becomes a problem she can drop back into the water to warm up and hope not to become a snack of the floating cutlery. The water's warmer than the air by a good margin; the last traces of light catch on wafts of evaporation, miniature steam billows dancing over the surface and being buffeted by the small waves.
"No, not yet. Won't you be bored to death while I sleep? Unless you're incredibly interested in my snoring."
She wraps her arms around herself, chilled. "But I'm competent enough for some night sailing. That's how I died, you know. The first time."
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