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The second that Harvey was certain that both he and Jones had cleared the door, he slammed it behind him. Part of him was tempted to lean against it, but he realized that whatever was on their tail might stick its claws right through the door and that would not end well on his end. As much as his body was asking him to rest (and it
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He knew fuck all about Angels. There hadn't been time to ask how the move, how they communicated, or what they needed for survival. It had been getting weaker, or at least running out of bottles and skeletons, and Billy would have helped it if it were all realistic. He had a feeling that simply rolling a large jar towards it would have been a useless gesture. It'll be fine, he told himself. He inhaled, and reasoned with himself. Whatever the Angel was, what he knew it was, it would persist. It would not be hurt, not really. Billy would die and the Angel would exist as long as its museum did. Billy was only one exhibit among many ( ... )
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Even so, they were safe-for the time being. He couldn't hear any sounds coming from the other side of the door, but a little extra precaution... well, it couldn't hurt.
He was reaching into his coat for his sonic screwdriver when the man who'd run with him asked a question. The Doctor looked over his shoulder towards him as he finished fishing out the screwdriver.
"Tonight,?" he asked, with a grin that was probably wider than it should have been considering they'd just been running for their lives. "If it's tonight, I'm not sure exactly-well, not sure yet. Something's going on; that's for sure, but the particulars-well... There are a few more monsters out than usual, that much is certain; might've had something to do with that alert..." And then ( ... )
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