It's odd, and almost disconcerting. He can manage her not being River, just about, but then at the same time he isn't entirely sure how to talk to her. She doesn't respond like River, doesn't give him that twinkle in her eye like River, there's no banter, just strong liquor and a cigarette. It makes his head duck a little, and he's quiet as he moves through to the adjacent room.
It's small, and almost seems to ooze with the era. He recognises it, but then he knows why. It's been in the books, right down to the crack on the bottom left of the old mirror that's fixed to one wall. His gaze lingers on it only a moment, and a moment longer on her bed, covers strewn as though it's some form of art.
There's another nod as she instructs him on, and he moves ahead into the small bathroom, closing the door with a gentle click behind him. Only then does he sit himself down against the edge of the tub, his hand wiping over his face. This is big, whatever this is, it's really huge, and right now he can't think how to even begin to fix it.
He doesn't wait long before standing and starting to remove his clothes, layer by layer, piece by piece all but peeled from his skin. He's shivering again, and he rubs the towel frantically against his body to warm himself. His bowtie is shrivelled and almost sad looking as it falls onto the pile, atop the purple coat that's almost black with damp.
Soon, much drier, he's dressing himself once more in a set of pyjamas that was in the pile Melody gave to him. He feels almost self conscious, and isn't that ridiculous? His hair is almost dry, aided by the towel, and he runs his fingers through it, pushing it back from his face. One final check, just to be safe, and he opens the small door, heading back out into the room besides him.
no subject
It's small, and almost seems to ooze with the era. He recognises it, but then he knows why. It's been in the books, right down to the crack on the bottom left of the old mirror that's fixed to one wall. His gaze lingers on it only a moment, and a moment longer on her bed, covers strewn as though it's some form of art.
There's another nod as she instructs him on, and he moves ahead into the small bathroom, closing the door with a gentle click behind him. Only then does he sit himself down against the edge of the tub, his hand wiping over his face. This is big, whatever this is, it's really huge, and right now he can't think how to even begin to fix it.
He doesn't wait long before standing and starting to remove his clothes, layer by layer, piece by piece all but peeled from his skin. He's shivering again, and he rubs the towel frantically against his body to warm himself. His bowtie is shrivelled and almost sad looking as it falls onto the pile, atop the purple coat that's almost black with damp.
Soon, much drier, he's dressing himself once more in a set of pyjamas that was in the pile Melody gave to him. He feels almost self conscious, and isn't that ridiculous? His hair is almost dry, aided by the towel, and he runs his fingers through it, pushing it back from his face. One final check, just to be safe, and he opens the small door, heading back out into the room besides him.