RP for rude_not_ginger [adult content]

[decadentmind]

Catherine stepped out of the Ninth Doctor's TARDIS and set off down the street into the cold, gray, rainy Tuesday afternoon. Her hair was tucked under a knit cap, the ends poking out, and she hoisted a large umbrella over one shoulder to keep dry.

She had agreed to meet the Doctor at a shop near the medical centre. It was so unlike her to be so

Comments

[rude_not_ginger]

As it was with the Doctor and first meetings, very little went right on the way there. First, there was a rabid Weevil that chased him three blocks before being snatched away into some strange van, then there were the three men from Torchwood U.S. who decided to interrogate him as to what he knew about a) the van and b) the Weevil.

He was smacked around a bit, shouted at, then, as a final insult, they threw him into a puddle of mud. Mud! Honestly. And he was eight blocks from the TARDIS. He did his best to brush it off, but he could only hope Dr. Endicott had some sense of humor when it cane to that sort of thing.

He stepped into the cafe, scratching the back of his neck and looking a bit like a drowned rat. Just a bit.

[decadentmind]

Catherine had just raised her cup of tea to her mouth when the slender, somewhat muddy man stepped through the door into the establishment. She paused, holding the cup, and blinked at him over the rim.

She was right. She knew.

She set the cup down and rose to her feet. "Doctor," she called, waving him over.

As he approached she frowned at him. "...dare I ask what happened? Are you quite all right?"

[rude_not_ginger]

Upon seeing the particularly pretty redhead waving him over, he did his best to do some sort of straightening...of course, there were globs of mud in his hair, and that never did well for showing off.

"Yeah, yeah, just...had a rather nasty argument with a puddle." He looked down at the stains on his suit jacket. "And a boot. Huh. Size 15. Is that large in American terms?"

Then again, she did have an accent, perhaps she was only visiting, too.

[decadentmind]

"Quite," Catherine murmured, squinting at a scuff mark on his cheekbone. "There's a joke there, concerning boot size and corollaries that could be drawn elsewhere, but I shan't make it. Can I get you anything? Tea? Biscuit? Ice? Soap and a towel?"