[For the Doctor]

[be_normal]

Four days it's been, since the Doctor brought Rob back home. Six since she's spoken to him, and as she sits on the sofa in the Treehouse flipping idly through an old magazine she'd pilfered from the bookcase, she's wondering how much longer she can go on. Whether she wants to. This isn't anger, per se, not by the traditional definition anyway.

Comments

[sortofaman]

Like most men, the Doctor has almost a Deep Shit radar sense, where he knows he's in a lot of trouble, but can't really be certain of the feminine logic behind it enough to confront the problem. Thus the mutual mirror dance between himself and Gwen.

He came into the house, realised enough was enough, and stood in front of her, waiting until Vogue was less interesting than him.

[be_normal]

About time, Gwen thinks. Her gaze lifts to the Doctor, brows arching expectantly, and the magazine's closed and laid neatly aside. Still, she says nothing, rather simply watching him and waiting, her expression impassive.

[sortofaman]

The Doctor waits as well, enough time to provide a certain amount of ground to stand on (he's been a diplomat much longer than Gwen...a shite diplomat, but one regardless). "You're angry with me," he said. "And I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. It was a foolish thing to do."

And he means it, but to be honest, there wasn't any other way the situation would have been able to go. He just doesn't do as well when he's part of a bloody TASK FORCE.

[be_normal]

"Not angry," Gwen clarifies with a slow blink. "Disappointed, maybe." And just like that, the situation has resolved itself to her mind, although the fact that she's not particularly liked not speaking to him may have something to do with her readiness to move on. "Sit," she instructs, pushing her palms restlessly over her thighs.