| Date: 10 December 2007
Characters: The Ninth Doctor, Owen Harper Location: hotel bar Link to IJ: thread #305 |
 The TARDIS had landed here without any actual intent on the Doctor's part. Still. Nice little town, ...somewhere. He poked the console; the readings were all strange, spinning and jumbled. Which meant he wasn't going anywhere until he fixed it.
"Oh for..." He groaned, stripping off his jacket, grabbing his screwdriver, and rolling up his jumper sleeves. He took off the outside panel and crawled under the console, feet poking out. The inside of the console was a mess of wires, jury rigged over hundreds of years. He had to be more careful. Before he couldn't get new parts. Now he couldn't get new parts. He closed his eyes for a moment; he'd spent a lot of time under here. He worked for hours; the readings were still wonky and his eyes were burning from focusing for so long. He slid out, rubbing his eyes, mumbling, "Must be missing somethin'." He rolled down his sleeves and grabbed his jacket, locking the TARDIS door behind him as he stepped out onto the street under the dim glow of the arch of the street-lamp. He rubbed the back of his neck and headed down the street. The weather was cool. The town looked like earth, twentieth century. Figured. TARDIS loved this time on this planet. It was easy to love this time. He headed into a bar, part of a hotel, and sat at the counter, ordering a coffee. "Nice night," he said absently to the person sitting next to him. |
 Owen was not in a good mood. It was cold and he hated the cold and what he really wanted was someone to warm him up a little. At least for the night. He nodded at the guy that had walked in and sat down, not his type, really, but you never knew. "Bit chilly for my taste, but I suppose at least it's not raining." |
| "Rain's to some people's taste," he said, mostly just to be talkative. |
| "Who would like rain?" Owen asked, the decided that maybe farmers, but who the fuck cared? "I'm Owen," he offered. |
| "Warm rain," he offered, then nodded at Owen, "I'm the Doctor." |
| Owen raised an eyebrow, "Really? I'm a doctor to. What's your speciality?" |
| "I didn't say a doctor, I said the Doctor" he said brightly, "What's your specialty?" |
| "Trauma mostly. At least lately, and the Doctor of?" |
| "You're a doctor of Trauma?" |
| "I'm a doctor of medecine that specializes in trauma. You know, emergency medicine, injuries. Things like that." |
| "Ohhhhhh," he said patiently, a bit patronizingly, "Bone saws and band aids." |
| "There's a bit more to it than that," he paused, feeling more than a little irritated, "You never did give me your name." |
| "Really did," he smiled though, showing all his teeth. |
| "You're name is' the Doctor'? Your parents had a bad sense of humor?" |
| "Your parents gave you that face. Were they drunk?" |
| "Well, depends on which one you ask." Owen was no tin the mood for someone as snarky as he was and he frowned at his drink. Maybe he should just head home, the bar was pretty devoid of anyone even he'd be willing to take home and that was saying something. |
| "Really?" he asked, interested by that, "What would your mum say?" |
| "That she was pissed." |
| "And your da says he wasn't?" |
| "Nah, me da insists he was." |
| "Then what's the arguement?" |
| "They both insist the other was sober." |
| "You have odd parents." |
| "You're being polite. I would have said something more along the lines of they were assholes." Owen grinned a bit, "By the way...not a thing wrong with my face. It's not grand, but it works well enough." |
| "Well enough for what?" |
| "Covers me skull, gets me some lovely shaggable men and women, conveys expressions. You know, the things faces are supposed to do." |
| "You sure about that?" |
| "Sure about which part?" |
| "The middle part." |
| "That I have sex? Well yeah, that part, I'm fairly well sure about." |
| "Not outta pity? Are you sure?" |
| Owen blinked, "Wow, you're a real prick. I'd be angry, but I'm too busy admiring your ability to be such a complete fuck to a stranger." |
| "I have a gift," he said sincerely. |
| "You do and you share it so freely. Refreshing...mostly." Owen polished off his drink and contemplated another. |
| "Gifts are for sharing. What's yours, Owen?" |
| "Mine?" Owen snorted and shook his head, "Sorry, Doctor. I don't believe everyone has a gift." |
| "Sure they do. Sometimes it's annoying people.' |
| Owen smirked, "Well then, that's likely my gift." |
| "Congratulations." |
| Owen, for just a moment, got an idea of what his teammates might feel like dealing with him, then he dismissed it. He wasn't nearly an ass at this level. "Well then. Guess I'll be calling it a night. I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I hate lying to people." Which in itself was a lie, but whatever, Owen wasn't in the mood anymore. Nice shower, some slippery soap, his own hand and a nice sleep would do the trick. |
| The Doctor saluted him lazily. "Don't let the door hit ya." |
| Owen grumbled something about it not being the door he was worried about and left the bar. |