I am most definately not invoking the jinx. I am far from bored. Is there anyone who'd care to meet me in the pub for a drink? Or invite me over for one? Yes, my headache is already that big, and I aim, at least, to wake up with a reason to feel this queasy with throbbing temples.
[private to self - written]
This has been a wretched week so far. I did get a new inmate, and he's a rich, English libertine. What did I do to deserve this? Perhaps the Admiral does hate me, as I suspected earlier. If so, why did he let me leave with Jack? Was it in the hopes that I'd never come back and spend the rest of my life separated from my own time and family?
I should talk to someone, but who? Reid is not good with personal matters. Martha is overwhelmed. Are my resources so thin now? Perhaps they are. Hmm... I have a strange idea...
[private to the Marquis]
This is perhaps not the best time for this. But when is? I wondered if you'd be willing to talk to me about something. This is assuming I'm not getting drunk elsewhere.
[private to the Fifth Doctor]
Doctor, would you consent to taking on Mr. Dorian Gray in the library? He is adamant about not working in the kitchens, despite the obvious need there. I'd like him to have the earliest shift possible, if you're amendable to the plan.