[open] and an awful lot of running to do

[alwaysmovingon]

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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[surfaceshine]

It's the noise that gets Dean's attention. He's been exploring the mansion piece by piece, now, trying to be as studious as possible in noting what changes and what stays the same. It's maddening, but doing nothing is even more maddening, and he's pretty sure he might still be losing his mind.

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.

[alwaysmovingon]

Well, in the sense of time collapsing and rifts opening in the sky and other sorts of awful terrible things? At any rate, so far. However, following Dean with other speaker in arms, carrying it with perhaps somewhat surprising ease for his build. "Of course it can't be two places at once," the Doctor says, "It doesn't work that way. The way it works is that it's here, but while it is here so little time passes outside this - lock, we'll call it that for now - that it'd be back before anyone noticed it was gone. Or at least, that's the theory. It's the only way I can figure that it would work out." He frowns a little, at nothing in particular. "And before you ask, yes, I am sure about time here not working right. It's - stuck. In a sense."

He still does not like thinking about that.

[surfaceshine]

Rifts opening in the sky? Check. Time collapsing in on itself? Dean would be strangely okay with that, probably. Other sorts of awful, terrible things? Weeeeeellllllll...

"You're saying that because you've heard that the people back in the worlds of people stuck here don't notice we're gone, right?" Dean leads the way down the hall, the quickest way he remembers to the main room; a quick glance to find either the most open area or the most easily openable area and he's lowering his speaker to the floor.

"I know it don't work right. My brother got here a month before me - I couldn't find him for a couple weeks, tops, back home before I followed." He pauses to dust his hands off, then starts back the way they'd come. "I'll get the player."

And he will, returning with it in short order.

[alwaysmovingon]

The Doctor would not be okay with time collapsing in on itself. Not when he's in his right mind, anyway.

The Doctor frowns, and pauses. "Huh," he says, simply, and narrows his eyes. "Odd. That's an...outlier, from everyone I've talked to...have you considered that perhaps he was somewhere else before here? I suppose I can't confirm how time passes outside of here, but given the state of time within, the only way it wouldn't create massive problems would be if..."

He trails off, and starts muttering to himself under his breath, apparently in another language.

[surfaceshine]

Dean is kind of used to that reaction now - things are always odd when they involve Winchesters, it seems, and he just smirks without humor as he sets the player down. He tosses a handful of assorted wires and cords beside it.

"I considered it. I considered it a lot. But we compared notes when I got here, and the time table fits - I can usually find him, if there's a chance of some poor shmuck like me getting it done. And believe me when I say I was tryin'."

Dean pulls two scraps of cloth that he picked up somewhere along the way out of his jeans pocket as he flops down to sit next to his stash.

[alwaysmovingon]

The Doctor follows suit in the sitting down, still frowning, and only after a moment snaps back. "--no, no, I believe you," he says, "It was only a thought, though it does mean...requires some adjustment of my hypothesis. I wonder if...if only whatever's clogging my instruments would let up, even for a bit! It would answer so many questions."

Focus on the task at hand. "All right, let's see here." He adjusts his glasses, conscientiously.

[surfaceshine]

Dean shrugs; if the Doctor wants to adjust his hypothesis, Dean isn't someone who's going to argue about it, but he kind of feels like maybe he should mention how he wouldn't be surprised if this were all some big game someone or something is playing with the Winchesters. Except for how that sounds incredibly narcissistic, and though he doesn't know that word, Dean recognizes the sound of ego when he hears it and he doesn't care for it. So he settles for that shrug, attention fixed mainly on what he's doing with his hands. This, at least, he can do.

"So, Doctor. You look like the college-y sort. That where the title comes from or what?"

[alwaysmovingon]

Yeah, the Doctor would politely disagree with that. Politely! But he would still disagree.

And he is currently leaning in to examine the wires and the connections and see what needs fixing to put this thing back together. "College-y?" He gives Dean a bit of a grin, glancing over. "No, not exactly. It's not a title, really, either, more of a - hmm - name. Or near enough."

[surfaceshine]

"You know, they made my name a title for a little bit. Didn't really work out so hot for me being The Dean though, so I try to keep that on the downlow." Dean grins just enough to cast some doubt, to most people, on whether or not he's joking. "Well, college-y isn't exactly the word I wanted anyway. Not with the Converses."

Dean indicates the shoes with his chin, smirking.

"Doesn't bother you, the My Name is a Noun thing?"

[alwaysmovingon]

The Doctor just studies him with what appears to be mild curiosity, but his eyes are intent. Although after a moment, he glances down at his shoes and grins. "They're nice shoes," he says, "Good for running. Comfy. Don't knock the shoes."

A pause, and he seems faintly amused by the next question. "Bother me? No, why would it? Easy to remember. Only people do tend to get a bit confused about it."

OH MY GOD can't believe I lost this notif

[surfaceshine]

"Not knockin' 'em, dude. Just not rockin' 'em, either." He grins, then, glancing up from where he's leaning nearly in half over his project.

"Just that - I mean, it's just a noun. People could tag anything they wanted on the end. I'd go with Spock, but others might not be so generous."

CLEARLY SOMEONE ELSE PULLED IT OUT OF THE PLOTHOLE FOR A WHILE. Dean says it only proves his theory.

[alwaysmovingon]

The Doctor is looking to see what needs fixing, fiddling with the screwdriver in his pocket. "Just because," he says, only a little peevishly, "My naming conventions aren't yours doesn't mean it isn't just as much a name, which it is. Also, I wouldn't; he's around here somewhere. Met him a bit ago, we had a lovely conversation about time and interdimensional travel. Kept up as well as I'd expected."

The Doctor actually looks - very pleased about this. He might be a bit of a fanboy about Spock. A bit.

[surfaceshine]

"Just because I don't understand your naming conventions doesn't mean I won't interpret them how I've been raised." Dean hits back, shrugging amiably enough. However, the second part gets his attention.

"Dude, no way."

[alwaysmovingon]

"--fair point," the Doctor allows, and then glances up again with a bit of a grin. Okay, more than a bit. "Really. It was a good long talk. Bit younger than I'd have thought - but that happens. I'm sure he's still about somewhere or other, I was actually hoping to see him and pick his brain on a few things...hm, what's-"

He examines one of the wires, trailing off, becoming distracted.

[surfaceshine]

"...maybe it is my brain after all." Dean mutters to his hands, shaking his head. He's not sure what to do with that information, except maybe start stalking any pointy-eared, pointy-eyebrowed fellows he sees walking around.

"So. Landed on the lawn, huh? That make a TARDIS some kind of plane?" Dean's not as into planes as he is cars, so he supposes it's possible even though he's never heard of one. He tries to recall what the Doctor said the acronym stood for, but with no real success; he dismissed it pretty much out of hand at the time.

[alwaysmovingon]

Not yours, the Doctor would object, certainly not. Not that it would do any good. "--plane," he says, seeming almost amused, and shakes his head, turning the record player a bit, though, so he can examine it more closely, and perhaps beginning tinkering with said screwdriver. "No, not in the least. More of a - well, ship, if you had to say anything. Spaceship. Space-and-timeship, more precisely...hm, this isn't doing so badly..."