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► one → video/action。
[There’s a teenager!
He’s wet, in something of a ‘I’m going to ignore how much of a drowned rat I appear’ way. One might assume that he fell into the fountain at some point, but equally, the all-encompassing wetness may have something to do with the fact that he was just in England, aka the land of copious amounts of tea-and-rain. His expression, for the record, reflects his irritation at being displaced without warning, frustration from trying to get whatever this might be to work (he's not entirely convinced it is), and curiosity. You know, at the whole ‘suddenly displaced, this isn’t London’ thing. It’s hard not to wonder about something like that.
When he finally speaks, he sounds Remarkably British, although his accent is rather indistinct for the most part – southern, one might assume, well-brought up, although there’s a slight hint of Welsh. No, he doesn’t do anything untoward with sheep. London doesn't have sheep.]
Normally, one only has to ask for my company to be granted with it. [This? This would be the unmistakable tone of `GRUMPINESS`.] I do try to make myself available for all, but it can’t be helped if someone misses out here and there. Kidnapping tends not to be the answer, though. If I said I was impressed, I’d sadly be lying, but if it makes you feel any better, you can pretend I’m of that opinion regardless. Likewise, I think you’ll find you’ve managed to overshoot ‘mysterious’.
[There’s a pause, and for a moment, there’s a flash of wry amusement in his expression, as if this entire scenario is utterly ridiculous to the point of absurdity.] “I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?'” I hope you won’t mind if I happen to refuse any bottles labelled ‘drink me’, or any foods labelled ‘eat me’. I’m quite content with who I am and don’t envision any existential crises a la dear Alice.
I won't decline any explanations, though, even if they happen to come from hatters and caterpillars and assorted small mammals with a fondness for tea and an inability to correctly tell the time.
[There’s another pause, and after he glances away from the device and up at the sky, he shoves the device into a pocket – without, for the record, bothering to turn it off, so have fun with the sound of footsteps and the wonderful blackness of pockets until the device times out.]
He’s wet, in something of a ‘I’m going to ignore how much of a drowned rat I appear’ way. One might assume that he fell into the fountain at some point, but equally, the all-encompassing wetness may have something to do with the fact that he was just in England, aka the land of copious amounts of tea-and-rain. His expression, for the record, reflects his irritation at being displaced without warning, frustration from trying to get whatever this might be to work (he's not entirely convinced it is), and curiosity. You know, at the whole ‘suddenly displaced, this isn’t London’ thing. It’s hard not to wonder about something like that.
When he finally speaks, he sounds Remarkably British, although his accent is rather indistinct for the most part – southern, one might assume, well-brought up, although there’s a slight hint of Welsh. No, he doesn’t do anything untoward with sheep. London doesn't have sheep.]
Normally, one only has to ask for my company to be granted with it. [This? This would be the unmistakable tone of `GRUMPINESS`.] I do try to make myself available for all, but it can’t be helped if someone misses out here and there. Kidnapping tends not to be the answer, though. If I said I was impressed, I’d sadly be lying, but if it makes you feel any better, you can pretend I’m of that opinion regardless. Likewise, I think you’ll find you’ve managed to overshoot ‘mysterious’.
[There’s a pause, and for a moment, there’s a flash of wry amusement in his expression, as if this entire scenario is utterly ridiculous to the point of absurdity.] “I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?'” I hope you won’t mind if I happen to refuse any bottles labelled ‘drink me’, or any foods labelled ‘eat me’. I’m quite content with who I am and don’t envision any existential crises a la dear Alice.
I won't decline any explanations, though, even if they happen to come from hatters and caterpillars and assorted small mammals with a fondness for tea and an inability to correctly tell the time.
[There’s another pause, and after he glances away from the device and up at the sky, he shoves the device into a pocket – without, for the record, bothering to turn it off, so have fun with the sound of footsteps and the wonderful blackness of pockets until the device times out.]
video.
Nope. [ A shrug. ] I could send you a guide, though.
video.
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[ A bit of a pause. ] What year is it for you?
video.
[That would be '1878'.]
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1878.
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... Yeah, okay, have an attempt at explanation. ] See, there's people from different times here. And worlds.
And this thing [ and here she points a mirror to her own device, so he can see it in the video ] can send and receive things. Like mail, only... faster.
[ Vague handwave. She's no good at this explaining, not like Rory. Or the Doctor, though he usually only makes sense much later. So she just sends the guide (http://somekindofsin.livejournal.com/20572.html) and hopes he'll figure it out himself. ]
video.
I was under the impression the year is when you are, rather than a place to go.
[And then he ignores her for several moments, fiddling with his device with varying degrees of success before speaking, albeit more to himself than to Amy.] Henry would hardly be able to contain himself at the sight of this.
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Who's Henry?
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I think I'd prefer this to be a dream, after all, even if it is a city that appears to be mostly populated by women.
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Even if? [ He gets a bit of a pout for that, but nope, she's not really serious. ] And here I thought that would be any straight man's favourite fantasy.
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You don't know anything of my fantasies, Miss Pond.
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No? Well, I hardly know you.
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You don't know me at all.
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Ah, but I do, a little. We've been talking for, what, almost five minutes. And I know your name. That almost makes you an acquaintance.
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Assuming I've been telling the truth.
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Assuming you've been telling the truth, yeah.
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There are pubs here, aren't there? If I have to stay here for even a night, then I'm going to enjoy myself.
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