continuum_of_drs: (doc8)
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Everything had been prepared.

Or, as prepared as it could be for an undertaking such as this, which wasn't very.

He knew he was going to have people wanting to go with him on this. And somehow, he didn't mind.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was a stowaway. Or, rather, he'd been expecting a stowaway of some kind. Just not here. Not now. Not now of all times...

There wasn't anything for it, though, but to look. The TARDIS knew exactly where said stowaway was, after all. The Doctor just had to get there.

He just hoped this one wasn't Australian....

Date: 2007-08-24 05:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] doctorbluebox.livejournal.com
That's right, they'd both been displaced rather often, hadn't they?

He doesn't think about that. Instead, since they had, indeed, reached their destination, he looks inside the room in question.

Since the TARDISes had merged, there were a great many kitchens and pools and lavs and whatnot. Some were utilitarian, others nothing more than very well-stocked larders, still more something approaching professional food-preparation areas. Some had a distinctly domestic feel and others didn't.

This one simply reflected the preoccupation Eight had. Spacious, airy for an indoor room, and almost unrecognisable as a kitchen, it was as Gallifreyan as a food preparation area could get. Oh, well, some things were universal, such as cooking pots and various other utensils, and a giant stove that resembled something that burnt wood but whose heat-source was unfathomable.

But most kitchens did not possess graceful furniture, an odd fountain for a faucet, lights on spirals, walls made mostly of glass and metal, round sinks, or concealed doors.

Date: 2007-08-24 02:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gabriel-grey.livejournal.com
Gabriel winces, stung by Savannah's tone. He had been the cause for her uprooting, and there was no changing it. He still cursed himself on a regular basis about that mess.

Luckily, the kitchen was a major distraction from the thoughts buzzing in his head.

"A... is this a kitchen?" Whatever it is, it's ... hard to describe. Star Trek meets Victorian England, perhaps. But it feels comfortable.

Date: 2007-08-24 04:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_meadow_lark/
"Oooh, it's lovely!" Savannah has lots of experience with utilitarian kitchens (consider all the detention she's served), but hasn't been in such a fancy room dedicated to food preparation. But this is how Gallifreyans do things, apparently.

Date: 2007-08-24 06:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] doctorbluebox.livejournal.com
"It is, rather. It's a bit posh, though, don't you think?" this last he directs at the room at large.

The air feels smug for a moment. Don't ask how a room can be smug, it just is. But only for a moment.

The Doctor shakes his head and walks into the room itself, easily locating the tea and biscuits they'd been smelling. "Kitchens like these are seen in higher-class areas of the Capitol on Gallifrey." Tea-pouring happens. Ooo, it is proper English tea, as he's gone and found milk and little sugar cubes. "It's almost a pity no-one's about in them but the cooks, but at least the cooks enjoy them."

Date: 2007-08-24 06:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gabriel-grey.livejournal.com
Gabriel is content. There is tea. And it is Proper. A little milk, and if he were a cat he'd be purring right now.

"If this is where the cooks work, I'd like to see the rest of the place." He finds a cushy place to sit, something squishy and velvet-coated. It's very comfortable, moreso than anything he's ever plopped himself on before.

Date: 2007-08-24 08:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_meadow_lark/
"Oh, I wouldn't mind being a cook in a Gallifreyan household, with a kitchen like this! Where do I sign up?"
It's a joke, mostly.

Savannah has found the little biscuits that come with Proper Tea. "Fantastic, these. D'you make them yourself?"

Date: 2007-08-25 06:24 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] doctorbluebox.livejournal.com
The Doctor had found someplace nearby to sit, as well. "I hadn't made them myself, no."

The place is far too inviting. And he's not sure the tea is just tea.

A slight frown crosses his face, but it clears quickly. "As to a job cooking in one of these kitchens ... well, that's why I'm leaving. Not to go become a chef, no. To make sure places like these still exist. Gallifrey is in danger, you see." Oh, it was like pulling teeth to get him to say that and if there wasn't something nudging the words out, he never would have said it at all.

Date: 2007-08-25 06:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gabriel-grey.livejournal.com
"Oh, aye? That's not... erm." Hadn't Rassilon mentioned his home planet had been destroyed?

"That's horrible." Oh yes, he's getting very sleepy. "I hope everything works out... for you..."

Well, there goes one. He's sawing logs like a true lumberjack.

Date: 2007-08-26 11:27 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_meadow_lark/
Oh, isn't this the perfect place for a nap, though? She smiles at her sleeping dad, he's been so tired lately, and takes a big gulp of her tea. Fantastic stuff.

"Hmm, lovely. Is this...is this...d...decaf?" Apparently not. As soon as she sets down her teacup on her Saucer of Rassilon, she curls up and falls asleep.

Date: 2007-08-27 01:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] doctorbluebox.livejournal.com
"Oh, no.... No, nonononono, you didn't..." He sniffs the tea. "You did. You did--what am I going to do now...."

He isn't going to leave them in the kitchen, that's for certain. He starts by picking Savannah up, carrying her a little awkwardly. "Can't bring them home now, the more I delay, the more--" he pauses. "You wanted them to go with me. Well, if that were the case, you didn't have to drug them. You've been getting very underhanded, haven't you? Shades of my previous self."

A bedroom manifests not far away, though, and he manages to put Savannah in the huge, squashy bed. Back to the kitchen for Gabe.

"With the co-ordinates set oof...." Gabe might be thin, but Eight is not particularly large. "And here I am ready to leave--who else is in here that I'm going to--ooff--end up bringing with me?" Into the bed goes Gabe, as well.

Sigh.

"I'm going to leave. I'll explain everything to them later. I only hope they'll understand."

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