[open] and an awful lot of running to do
The Doctor is actually okay. For the most part. More or less recovered from his run in with Aramat - if still prone to be a little jumpy and sleeping very decidedly in the TARDIS door locked no matter what - and just a bit perplexed by his recent brief stint as a woman (that was interesting, to be sure, somewhat unexplainable) he is in usual form
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All that aside, that horrid noise and the pacing in the hall that joins the one he's currently trying doorknobs in has got. to. stop. Frowning, he reaches to roll the sleeves of his flannel back down where they go, and moves towards the commotion.
"Hey!" Mouth first.
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Dean's eyes do their best to follow the waving motion of the screwdriver, until he nearly goes cross eyed and closes them to stop the motion from making his vision jump. A moment later his skeptical face is back, eyes narrowed on the Doctor. "...a penlight? Just change the batteries, dude."
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The Doctor gives Dean one of his best 'perfectly exasperated' looks and tucks it back away. "Penlight, pfff. Nothing of the kind." Somewhat dismissively, "You wouldn't know it, the mechanics are irrelevant. Take my word for it that's not a noise anything on Earth would make, nor anything anywhere else that I've been, and I have been a lot of places."
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Dean gives him back a perfectly unimpressed stare, though less because he doesn't believe the Doctor and more because it's his stock response to people being exasperated with him. Personally, he kind of agrees; he probably doesn't know the mechanics involved - there's clearly something off about this guy, though Dean doesn't care about that particularly, not really - and he doesn't really care. Instead, he tilts his head back the way he came.
"Yeah, whatever. Listen, you got a minute? I could use a hand."
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The Doctor looks at him back. With big eyes now, and innocent expression, and perfectly normal face. ...yep. The question, though, gets a quick little grin. "A hand I can give. I have several minutes, in all honesty. Or none at all, depending on your - well, never mind. What do you need?"
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"Most of these rooms seem like they're empty, and one of 'em has something I want in it. More hands means less trips for me. You down?" Yeah. Dean never did have much trouble with the idea of taking something that no one else seems to want or need. Now is no different.
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"Fair enough," the Doctor allows. "I can help with that, straightforward enough. What sort of things are you looking for? --out of curiosity, more than anything."
He can't object to that. Not if it's empty. If it looks like it's still inhabited, on the other hand, he will balk.
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He's leading the way back down the hall until he comes to the door he marked mentally. He's already picked the lock - when he knocks it open with one hand, the stagnant smell of Empty Room hits him in the face again. It's not been lived in for some time.
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Well, there's that problem. The Doctor waits, hands in his jacket pockets, looking around the hallway in a nearly vaguely distracted way. But only nearly. And really, only apparently.
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"I've decided mostly to stay away from the damn thing - who knows what it's actually costing to summon that shit, or what's happening, or where it's coming from - but I'll make an exception for something to play on this beauty." He's far fonder than he probably should be with something he only just found when he wipes a hand over the lid, before glancing back. "I found most of the wires, but yeah - I'd like a hand if you ain't got something else planned. Not bad myself, but mechanical things go better in pairs."
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Pause, and then he brightens. "Nothing else planned, other than the project that's not going anywhere. A record player, that I can do. Will be satisfying to get something done besides."
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"Yeah, that's great, you summoned your scarf. But what if I tried to summon your scarf? Do I get another one or do I get yours? Who're we takin' shit from?" Dean manages to sound oddly dismissive and decidedly un-provocative; he's not trying to argue, even. He's curious and willing to bat the idea around, but he's already made the decision that he won't be asking it for sugar for Sam's coffee in the mornings. He doesn't, as mentioned, have a problem with taking shit from other people if he or his brother needs or even wants it; but he likes to select who he's taking from, thanks.
"That was pretty much my thought. Tired of walkin' 'round in circles."
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The Doctor's eyes brighten a bit. "Well now," he says, "That's an interesting question. After we did this, if you didn't mind - I'd like to see, perhaps. That would be... it might...hm. I hadn't thought of that, honestly. As far as who... it doesn't matter, actually, strictly speaking. Probably from other worlds, dimensions, the same as people come from - but the thing is, those dimensions will never know they are gone--"
And then, interrupting himself, "Yes, that does get rather tiring, doesn't it. Main room, you think?"
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"It does matter." His attention is split, but he still has plenty left over for this conversation. "I mean yeah, sure, take a scarf of your own or from some asshole who's got ten of 'em, fine. Take a scarf from some kid stuck on the street in the middle of New York in the winter and that's another matter. You'll never know - until you smell it, anyway - but they will."
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The glasses appear and slide on, even as he goes over to get the other speaker, because he is going to help. "--rather interesting," he continues, "And a bit distressing, but that's beside the point. The scarf would be here, yes, but it would also be there, or at least it would have to be. Otherwise things would fall apart, and seeing as there's a noticeable lack of things falling apart..."
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"Doesn't make any sense. It can't be in two places at once, and if I have it, then you don't. Why'd you say it would have to be in both places?" Because Dean needs to learn that trick, yo.
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