[The Doctor is in the library, and so are two cats. One is a fluffy black cat (this would be Mortimer, obviously), and the other is a newly hatched (that's right, hatched) white kitten. They are both making themselves comfy on books, and Nine is stretched out on a sofa, talking to them]Wonder who's responsible for dragging bits of New York into
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Comments 93
Who never learns?
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[He'll just frown right back, then.] Och, not ye too. I've already gone through this with the lassie one of ye, I'll have ye know.
[Note the smooth non-answer of the question there, Nine.]
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Does that sort of thing happen often?
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Hi.
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Regardless, she offers her fingers to Egg to sniff.] You're lacking imagination.
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You're turning into a old cat lady.
[Just in case anyone listening in had any doubts. Though there might be a small, furry cheetah face peeking out from over his shoulder to look in the Doctor's direction.]
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Well, not physically anyways. Least so far as I've seen.
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[amused] Ask your self if you don't believe me.
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