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Aug. 24th, 2005 12:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doyleI officially suck at the one-line meme. I'm sure 311 words is pushing the limit a tad, but the Fourth Doctor is unbelievably fun to write.
A Girl Like You
It wasn't that he'd never met another version of himself. No, on the contrary, there were times when he couldn't metaphorically pop to the shops for a pint of milk without bumping into another Doctor, which went some way to explaining why the High Council was always so annoyed with him.
This latest one, however...
"Well, I thought she was very attractive," Romana said, trotting ahead of him into the TARDIS. Behind them, its twin dematerialized with a whir of engines that was reassuringly familiar. Times changed and so would he - into a woman, apparently - but the TARDIS stayed ever the same.
He frowned, thinking about that. Tenth regeneration, she'd said, and he (or she) still hadn't taken the old girl to Logopolis to get the chameleon circuit looked at? Dear, dear.
Romana was still singing his future self's praises as he set the coordinates. "She was like... oh, like fresh air. And it's remarkable how much your taste in clothing must be going to improve."
He was torn between preening at the compliment - she was him, after all, even if she was a she - and affront at the implication that he was like a shut-up room that couldn't dress itself in the dark. "Oh, some would say improve," he sniffed. "I think she lacked a certain essential elegance, myself."
"I suppose you think she'd look better with five yards of wool swathed around her neck?"
He tried to convey, with a shrug, that in his opinion there were few people who wouldn't.
A moment later, there was a gentle tug on his scarf. "Yes? What?"
Romana smiled impishly - and, to his surprise, a little shyly. "I didn't like her better than you."
And suddenly, the other Doctor's parting words - "you should go for it, you know. She won't say no." - made perfect sense.
Terribly Romantic City, Paris
"This guidebook," Romana said, peering at it seriously, "says that Paris is the city of love."
"Does it, does it?" The Doctor was half listening, far more interested in how she was keeping her hat at such an improbable angle. Pins, no doubt, unless she'd rigged up a gravity device of some sort. "Well, it's a terribly romantic city, Paris. You can hardly cross the street without somebody trying to kiss you or whisk you away for a debauched weekend in Saint Moritz. Although that only happened to me the once."
She was awfully pretty when she frowned. It was a surprising thought, and followed by the equally surprising one that she was awfully pretty all of the time.
"I've been here for nearly three days," she said, closing the book with a snap. "And not even one person's tried to kiss me."
Well, there was only one sensible response to that.
A Girl Like You
It wasn't that he'd never met another version of himself. No, on the contrary, there were times when he couldn't metaphorically pop to the shops for a pint of milk without bumping into another Doctor, which went some way to explaining why the High Council was always so annoyed with him.
This latest one, however...
"Well, I thought she was very attractive," Romana said, trotting ahead of him into the TARDIS. Behind them, its twin dematerialized with a whir of engines that was reassuringly familiar. Times changed and so would he - into a woman, apparently - but the TARDIS stayed ever the same.
He frowned, thinking about that. Tenth regeneration, she'd said, and he (or she) still hadn't taken the old girl to Logopolis to get the chameleon circuit looked at? Dear, dear.
Romana was still singing his future self's praises as he set the coordinates. "She was like... oh, like fresh air. And it's remarkable how much your taste in clothing must be going to improve."
He was torn between preening at the compliment - she was him, after all, even if she was a she - and affront at the implication that he was like a shut-up room that couldn't dress itself in the dark. "Oh, some would say improve," he sniffed. "I think she lacked a certain essential elegance, myself."
"I suppose you think she'd look better with five yards of wool swathed around her neck?"
He tried to convey, with a shrug, that in his opinion there were few people who wouldn't.
A moment later, there was a gentle tug on his scarf. "Yes? What?"
Romana smiled impishly - and, to his surprise, a little shyly. "I didn't like her better than you."
And suddenly, the other Doctor's parting words - "you should go for it, you know. She won't say no." - made perfect sense.
Terribly Romantic City, Paris
"This guidebook," Romana said, peering at it seriously, "says that Paris is the city of love."
"Does it, does it?" The Doctor was half listening, far more interested in how she was keeping her hat at such an improbable angle. Pins, no doubt, unless she'd rigged up a gravity device of some sort. "Well, it's a terribly romantic city, Paris. You can hardly cross the street without somebody trying to kiss you or whisk you away for a debauched weekend in Saint Moritz. Although that only happened to me the once."
She was awfully pretty when she frowned. It was a surprising thought, and followed by the equally surprising one that she was awfully pretty all of the time.
"I've been here for nearly three days," she said, closing the book with a snap. "And not even one person's tried to kiss me."
Well, there was only one sensible response to that.