After three full days of boredom, frustration, fury and rather surprising humiliation, Jack kicked his door and it crashed open. He kicked it again for good measure, cursed it a few times, got dressed (being alone and unable to leave, he hadn't bothered with it before), and raced out of his room before the goddamn place changed its mind. He kept going all the way down, planning on a nice long visit to the dining room after three days of nuts, chocolate and soft drinks from the minibar, when he heard the front door open. Curiosity nibbled at him against his will, and he detoured to see what new victim the place swallowed this time. Hell, maybe it was one of the others who'd just been out for fresh air.
He was fully into the room before his mind registered the man facing him- not a man, after all- and he froze. "Oh, shit."
The door felt heavy. And wrong. Yes, as he pulled the large front door open it felt both heavy and wrong. The crisp air gusted toward him as he entered, so very different from the stale, sandy atmosphere he'd been breathing outside. The Doctor's face was emotionless, brow only slightly arched, as he stepped inside. His shoes made a tiny squeaking sound as he took two steps toward what looked like a... front desk
( ... )
It was really the Doctor. The right one. Jack's mind had enough time to tick over the relevant facts- there were now three, count 'em, three Doctors in the same suddenly-too-small hotel.
...And one of them was attacking him. This newest one, the Doctor he'd been waiting for, was coming right at him and this would be a miserable way to die, and Jack had just enough time to wonder how long it'd take him to come back this time before he was knocked to the floor, air pushed out of his lungs, bracing for pin that failed to come. Instead, there was a torrent of words, faster than he was used to, different accent, different weight and smell and sense of the man pinning him down, but there was no mistaking it. The right Doctor. All Jack's mind could do was repeat it's earlier opinion- this was not good.
"Get off me." He finally managed to croak, pushing feebly. Damn, damn, why did he have to come here? Why now? Fuck, he was stuck here too now, Jack had half-counted on him for a rescue. "You shouldn't be here."
The Doctor frowned, but nodded. "Too right," he agreed. As he pushed himself up, one leg on either side of Jack's, he looked the Captain over and felt a shudder go through him. It was unmistakably a shudder. Right down his spine.
You shouldn't be here, echoed the words. The Doctor stood over Jack for a few seconds, finger tapping against his lip thoughtfully, not taking notice that he was keeping the man below him from getting up. "She knew where we were going, I just don't see how things could've gotten-- Oh." Quickly, the Doctor side stepped away from Jack and then stretched out his hand, the smile somehow finding his lips once again. "Alright?" he asked, the smile fading when he met Jack's eyes for the second time. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. Everything about this place was...
His head jerked to the side, his arm still extended, to acknowledge the man behind the desk. There was a tight, thin smile on the man's face and the Doctor instantly furrowed his brow. There was a word for a smile like that. Sinister. The man appeared to be
( ... )
His hands weren't shaking. And he wasn't mumbling to himself
Nope. Weren't shaking in the least. No mumbling. Except for the part where he was. Still, he wasn't afraid of these walls. Even though they were evil and keeping secrets from him and he would force them to answer all his questions in alphabetical order. The Doctor looked as if he was a child coloring the walls, swirling the screwdriver and conducting an invisible symphony. The Time Lord wasn't sure what he was looking for.
Blimey, he didn't know what to do. Not that he ever had a plan, but--
The Doctor froze and looked over his shoulder. Right. Guests. "Hello!" he returned, beaming at her sincerely. Quickly, he put the screwdriver in his side coat pocket and turned, leaning against the wall. "Just making sure the wallpaper was the right... shade of... there's no call for it, really, I won't lie to you." His smile widened.
She didn't look any cheerier than Jack did but the Doctor found himself feeling grateful for her. It was partially because she was a polite and unharmed human being who offered him her hand and oh, how he loved polite and unharmed human beings. The other part of it was selfish.
But enough about that, because he was sort've just standing there grinning at her as if her hand didn't exist. Not that he had anything against hands that didn't exist! He didn't! Happened to him once, after all.
"Right you are! Stacy Stacy Warner," he mused, his grin turning into something of a wry smirk. The Doctor gently clasped her outstretched hand in his own and gave it a small squeeze. "Nice name, if you ask me. Which you didn't. That's me for you. New! New's a wonderful thing, isn't it?" He was trying to get her to smile. Mostly because he felt like frowning, and that made him defiant.
Lilo rounded a corner in the Hotel, en route to the dining hall. She wanted a peanut butter sandwich, and her stomach growled loudly in encouragement. Her flip-flops thwacked on the floor with satisfactory loudness, and she'd managed a successful eye transplant for Scrump.
She hummed a little to herself, but stopped when she saw a man with rumpled hair sniffing the carpet.
"Excuse me, Sir. I think your hair exploded. Did you spill something?"
Of this he was certain. CERTAIN! He'd heard the little pitter pat of her flip-flops for a good while now, and as he crouched lowly on his hands and knees, he hoped his ears were wrong. The Doctor hoped against hope it wasn't really a child. But her voice confirmed. He lifted the tip of his nose from the floor and grinned at her infectiously.
"Exploded! That's very observant of you," he replied, shoving himself back to sit in the middle of the hallway on his rear, crossing his legs, and looking at her with meek eyes. "And no, no. Didn't spill anything. Looking for clues. Wanna help?"
Lilo couldn't help laughing at how he just sat down on the floor. Though she did, for a moment, feel the need to make sure he wasn't crazy. She thought of all the warnings Nani had ever given her, and she put her hands on her hips.
"You don't live in the woods, do you? Do you own a white van? Are you going to try to give me candy?" She tried to look stern, but only managed to look like she'd smelled something bad.
"Not very fond of ticks, I prefer the TARDIS to a van of any colour, and any candy I find I'm keeping for myself," he explained, still smiling warmly. Then he stuck out his hand. "I'm the Doctor. See? Not a stranger now. Well... just as strange, I suppose."
One cheek puffed out thoughtfully before he exhaled and scratched his face. "I'm living in the hall, at the moment. Not very fond of the rooms they offer here."
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He was fully into the room before his mind registered the man facing him- not a man, after all- and he froze. "Oh, shit."
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...And one of them was attacking him. This newest one, the Doctor he'd been waiting for, was coming right at him and this would be a miserable way to die, and Jack had just enough time to wonder how long it'd take him to come back this time before he was knocked to the floor, air pushed out of his lungs, bracing for pin that failed to come. Instead, there was a torrent of words, faster than he was used to, different accent, different weight and smell and sense of the man pinning him down, but there was no mistaking it. The right Doctor. All Jack's mind could do was repeat it's earlier opinion- this was not good.
"Get off me." He finally managed to croak, pushing feebly. Damn, damn, why did he have to come here? Why now? Fuck, he was stuck here too now, Jack had half-counted on him for a rescue. "You shouldn't be here."
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You shouldn't be here, echoed the words. The Doctor stood over Jack for a few seconds, finger tapping against his lip thoughtfully, not taking notice that he was keeping the man below him from getting up. "She knew where we were going, I just don't see how things could've gotten-- Oh." Quickly, the Doctor side stepped away from Jack and then stretched out his hand, the smile somehow finding his lips once again. "Alright?" he asked, the smile fading when he met Jack's eyes for the second time. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. Everything about this place was...
His head jerked to the side, his arm still extended, to acknowledge the man behind the desk. There was a tight, thin smile on the man's face and the Doctor instantly furrowed his brow. There was a word for a smile like that. Sinister. The man appeared to be ( ... )
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Nope. Weren't shaking in the least. No mumbling. Except for the part where he was. Still, he wasn't afraid of these walls. Even though they were evil and keeping secrets from him and he would force them to answer all his questions in alphabetical order. The Doctor looked as if he was a child coloring the walls, swirling the screwdriver and conducting an invisible symphony. The Time Lord wasn't sure what he was looking for.
Blimey, he didn't know what to do. Not that he ever had a plan, but--
The Doctor froze and looked over his shoulder. Right. Guests. "Hello!" he returned, beaming at her sincerely. Quickly, he put the screwdriver in his side coat pocket and turned, leaning against the wall. "Just making sure the wallpaper was the right... shade of... there's no call for it, really, I won't lie to you." His smile widened.
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(The comment has been removed)
But enough about that, because he was sort've just standing there grinning at her as if her hand didn't exist. Not that he had anything against hands that didn't exist! He didn't! Happened to him once, after all.
"Right you are! Stacy Stacy Warner," he mused, his grin turning into something of a wry smirk. The Doctor gently clasped her outstretched hand in his own and gave it a small squeeze. "Nice name, if you ask me. Which you didn't. That's me for you. New! New's a wonderful thing, isn't it?" He was trying to get her to smile. Mostly because he felt like frowning, and that made him defiant.
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She hummed a little to herself, but stopped when she saw a man with rumpled hair sniffing the carpet.
"Excuse me, Sir. I think your hair exploded. Did you spill something?"
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Itty bitty ones!
In the carpet.
Of this he was certain. CERTAIN! He'd heard the little pitter pat of her flip-flops for a good while now, and as he crouched lowly on his hands and knees, he hoped his ears were wrong. The Doctor hoped against hope it wasn't really a child. But her voice confirmed. He lifted the tip of his nose from the floor and grinned at her infectiously.
"Exploded! That's very observant of you," he replied, shoving himself back to sit in the middle of the hallway on his rear, crossing his legs, and looking at her with meek eyes. "And no, no. Didn't spill anything. Looking for clues. Wanna help?"
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"You don't live in the woods, do you? Do you own a white van? Are you going to try to give me candy?" She tried to look stern, but only managed to look like she'd smelled something bad.
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One cheek puffed out thoughtfully before he exhaled and scratched his face. "I'm living in the hall, at the moment. Not very fond of the rooms they offer here."
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