((Reeeeally difficult choice! But I'm going with whole new 60s.))
The Doctor stood behind a crowd crammed together to listen to the BBC radio broadcast about demonstrations across England over various things. It was an evening news update of the situations and realizing Martha had been rather quiet, he looked around for her.
Martha was sitting near the back of the group trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. She was not fully happy about being stuck in the 60s again, and the dirty looks she had received from everyone was just further proof of that. With everyone crowded around the radio, she received a respite from the glares.
He pulled himself away from the crowd and managed to spot a very unhappy looking Martha in the back. Why was she all the way...Oh. Oh, right.
"Sorry." He spoke a bit sheepishly, knowing these sort of situations must've made her uncomfortable. "Let's leave, yeah? Pop on out down the street..."
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he leisurely strolled down the street at Martha's side. "As soon as I fix the TARDIS, we'll leave. Promise!" Unfortunately he really over did it and the TARDIS was rightfully angry at him and rather broken.
"Do we have somewhere to live in the mean time?" she asked. "I'm going to have to support you again aren't I?" she added with a rueful smile as she slipped an arm around his. "Mr. and Mrs. Smith or can we be Jones this time. Please can we be Jones?"
"You don't have to support me!" Really, she only saved his poor soul from cooking, he was rather terrible when not in the kitchen of the TARDIS. He was also in denial and stubborn, which didn't make matters any better.
"Huh? Oh, sure, Jones is fine!" Jones, Jones, Jones, not Smith, Jones... He would be repeating that a bit given it was natural to say John Smith these days.
"Your cooking is splendid!" He complimented as they continued onwards, "Remember those cookies we made that one time? Ohhh, they were good! And that thing with the chicken."
"The sixties aren't all that bad... We can go see the Beatles! Or... let's seem, the discos are entertaining..."
Her smile was genuine now. "We never did get to see them last time. That would be fun."
She glanced over at him again. "So any ideas for where we're to live for the being? I rather liked the place we ended up before. Though we probably can't move in there."
Martha stood just behind him, watching the exchange with interest. The Doctor was, as ever, maniacally charming and she couldn't help but laugh when he explained the situation.
"So Mr. Jones. Flirting with paradoxes. I think we can handle that." She slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow. "And the housing will be better than last time? Because that was the smallest flat in the world. Made mine look like a castle!"
He grinned and leaned into her, "Enough to fit a kitchen table and a cat. Oh, I haven't had a pet in a long time!" He tried to have one once in the TARDIS, but it got lost after the second day. Come to think of it, he never did find it....ever.
The door opened back up and Miss Shaw handed him a key, "Here you go, sir! Oh? Is this your...wife?"
"And a cat. That sounds promising," she smiled, easily slipping into the domestic Martha she had been all that time ago when they had been stuck in the 60s.
She smiled back jovially Miss Shaw, deciding not to let her skin color define her. "Just Martha. Mrs. Jones I guess."
Martha took his hand in hers to show marital bliss. They'd have to find some rings to keep people off their scent.
After a few pleasant exchanges, which the Doctor was doing his best to get them away in fears of a paradox forming by any information given, they keyed into the flat.
"Home sweet home!" He flipped on a light and explored a bit. "Ah, lovely, innit?" Spinning on his heels, "I should have us out of here by the end of the week, promise." Surly he could fix the TARDIS in shorter time than that, but at least there was some leeway there for her.
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The Doctor stood behind a crowd crammed together to listen to the BBC radio broadcast about demonstrations across England over various things. It was an evening news update of the situations and realizing Martha had been rather quiet, he looked around for her.
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"Sorry." He spoke a bit sheepishly, knowing these sort of situations must've made her uncomfortable. "Let's leave, yeah? Pop on out down the street..."
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Martha smiled though. "Yeah... out on the street while everyone's inside. I like that idea."
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"Huh? Oh, sure, Jones is fine!" Jones, Jones, Jones, not Smith, Jones... He would be repeating that a bit given it was natural to say John Smith these days.
Reply
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"The sixties aren't all that bad... We can go see the Beatles! Or... let's seem, the discos are entertaining..."
Reply
She glanced over at him again. "So any ideas for where we're to live for the being? I rather liked the place we ended up before. Though we probably can't move in there."
Reply
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"So Mr. Jones. Flirting with paradoxes. I think we can handle that." She slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow. "And the housing will be better than last time? Because that was the smallest flat in the world. Made mine look like a castle!"
Reply
The door opened back up and Miss Shaw handed him a key, "Here you go, sir! Oh? Is this your...wife?"
"Dr. Martha Jones at her service!"
Reply
She smiled back jovially Miss Shaw, deciding not to let her skin color define her. "Just Martha. Mrs. Jones I guess."
Martha took his hand in hers to show marital bliss. They'd have to find some rings to keep people off their scent.
Reply
"Home sweet home!" He flipped on a light and explored a bit. "Ah, lovely, innit?" Spinning on his heels, "I should have us out of here by the end of the week, promise." Surly he could fix the TARDIS in shorter time than that, but at least there was some leeway there for her.
Reply
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