abraxaslogs | ( catch-all) the definite article, you might say

[what a strange guy, is what wanda can’t help but think. is he a doctor? he doesn’t seem the type—but all wanda is thinking about is someone like stephen, strict and somewhat stuck in his ways.

she hesitantly watches from the outside as the doors open.

somehow, it doesn’t quite surprise her that the area is a lot bigger past the doors. it takes him suggesting that she look around before wanda does just that, taking a step inside after giving him a glance; a horizon’s domain within a domain. it looks like she’s in a sci-fi movie, but he did say that it travels in time and space.

wanda tentatively walks towards the central console, uncertain of touching anything.]

So, it’s a ship?

[ Strange might be one of the tamer attributes anyone has ascribed to him, though he does hear it often, and he would easily agree with her assessment were she to ever voice it aloud.

He's delighted in anticipation as she steps further inside, and takes a great deal of pride in what he's managed to achieve here. The TARDIS isn't only a mode of transport for him, of course, though at a rudimentary level, that's the purpose his ship serves. His old girl is far more than that, though, and he's quick to expand on that. ]

That, but far beyond. TARDIS stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space. She's a time machine, a spaceship, a refuge, a comfort, home all these long years.

[ So, it's been difficult to be parted. He sees her seem to hesitate near the console, but he just smiles and nods in encouragement. ]

You won't harm anything. Poke and prod to your delight!

Time And Relative Dimension In Space… [she murmurs, counting out the first letters in her mind, then her fingers, and assigning the name ‘tardis’ to it after some thought. right.] How long is ‘these long years’?

[he speaks fondly of the tardis, like there’s more than just meets the eye—about him, in much the same way there is more than meets the eye about the blue box itself.

and though he says that she can poke and prod to her delight, wanda’s the opposite of the doctor’s personality, and so she very lightly presses down on a green button—hesitantly, almost.

she turns to look at him.

does that do anything?]

Nearly a thousand now, give or take a decade! It all muddles together eventually.

[ He's so casual about it, but he really does feel his age. It's just rare that he conveys as much on the surface.

The hesitant, almost timid way that she moves to press a button is endearing more than anything else, and the Doctor smiles softly, nodding his head to encourage her. It makes a soft whirring sound and a few blue lights flash on the console, but nothing else happens. ]

If we weren't here, if this were my real TARDIS, you would have pressed go just then, sent us off swirling around the stars, or backwards or forwards in time. Where would you have wanted to go, if you could choose?

[damn, okay—

one thing at a time. the blue lights flashing distract her, momentarily, from the comment about him being nearly a thousand years old (if he isn't pulling her leg?). for all intents and purposes, despite his being very casual and easygoing, wanda doesn't see a reason as to why he would lie to her.

her eyes land back on him, in time for his question.]

That's a bit of a difficult question to answer.

[but a place does come to mind, a moment in time—several, actually. it'd be hard to choose a place, anyway, between having one more minute in her parents' embrace, to any moment where she would have listened to pietro, to holding her children and vision again... a loaded question, indeed.]

Do you have somewhere you like to return to?

[turn it back around to him.]

[ Does he? Oh, yes. More than one. All his whimsy hides so much beneath the surface. There's more than one face, more than one time, more than one moment that lingers long after one day moves into the next. He loses track of his years, marks the passage of time by their faces; the ones he's loved, the ones he's lost, the ones he never forgets. And the darker moments — yes, those faces, those moments, those...screams that haunt him when he closes his eyes.

There's a moment he would give anything to change. But there are people whose faces he'd want to see again, too, for all that he says he doesn't look back and can't.

Outwardly, his smile only briefly falters, but it's still there, still soft. Understanding that it's not an easy question to answer. ]

There are moments. Many. But I never look back, I can't.

[ He's also started to wonder at the intangible things he can't ever actually travel to. A feeling, the way you feel in a moment, in a place, with certain people. And if you could ever go back to that moment, would it still feel the same? He's not so sure. He's also lying, but he's good at that. Sometimes he almost believes his own lies. ]

[wanda, of course, can tell that he is lying, but that's something that he's allowed to keep for himself; all the while wanda keeps to herself the fact that she could tell.

she presses at another button—entirely too gently—and watches as lights flicker and sounds arise from the complex machinery.]

Some things are forever irreversible.

[like deaths. which is why wanda could never answer the question about there being a point in time she'd like to return to. caught in a web of delusion and lies, and while that much can stop the pain—it's not really worth all the chaos that comes with it. all that which one may sacrifice.

to lighten the subject, a bit, she looks up at the man.]

Your TARDIS is in my garden, you realize. [not an accusation, nor a complaint. it is also not a question.] Am I going to expect it to be a permanent fixture...?

[er,]

Doctor?

[she's making a guess, given that's what he used earlier.]

[ He should have known better than to ask such a question at all, but then he frequently walks into moments like this recklessly. So much of the past that one might wish to revisit are fixed points in time, unable to be altered without causing a potential collapse of reality. Her deflection, not answering and turning the question around on him, had been answer enough, but there was a look in her eyes he can't miss. Everyone carries pain, yes, but there's something else there. Perhaps.

She doesn't press him, though, and he's grateful, returning it in kind. ]

And a lovely garden it is! I should be so honored to stay here, if you're willing. A permanent fixture, as you say. An oversized lawn ornament. I'll even let you redecorate! Within reason.

[ And with a smile, he's quick to add — ] Doctor, yes, you've got it. Completely forgot my manners! And it's very good to meet you... [ He trails off to allow her room to fill in her name. ]

[—all of a sudden he's asking if he can keep the tardis in her garden, as a permanent fixture? wanda was certainly expecting him to maybe apologize and remove it, set it off elsewhere; clearly she had read him wrong.

so, she blubbers for a moment—

(at least this much dispels the weight of their conversation)

—and finally finds her voice.]

I mean, that's fine. I just — I think, maybe... Redecorating might be in order. For it to fit in...better?

[all within reason, as he said. suppose this is happening to her now.]

Wanda Maximoff. No fancy titles. [meaning,] What kind of doctor are you?

[ He wasn't joking about being honored if she were willing to allow him to stay here, but he wasn't entirely serious about the rest of it. He's not good at conveying that at times, though. Many times. He seems to be especially worse at it now, having effectively exiled himself from the universe after losing Amy and Rory. The chance to understand the mystery of Clara Oswald more had just started to fill him with a purpose again, but then he was suddenly here.

And it's evident he's been alone too long of late. He's never good when he's alone too long. He's always strange, yes, always the madman, he'll be the first to assert. He's also painfully aware that he can be just so very him sometimes, and without his friends — who are always far better than him — he goes a bit off course. But remarkably, he catches on that perhaps his conduct isn't...how he should be behaving right now.

She's kind and polite as she seems to work her way to an answer she shouldn't have to give, to a question he shouldn't have posed so blithely.

And he softens. ]

I'm what you'd call an everything Doctor. Not the sort to limit myself! It's good to meet you, Wanda, and —

[ He moves to step back towards the TARDIS doors, looking outside. ]

Your garden. Show me around? I've planted myself here without asking — I do that sometimes, sorry — haven't ruined anything, have I?

[an everything doctor, huh?

wanda only just about gets a glimpse of all his internal conflict, as if realizing he must have caught her off guard with his suggestion—at the way he tries to step back entirely, towards the doors, to her garden.]

—maybe a few flowers, but it’s fine.

[she goes over to him, to follow him outside towards her garden proper. the TARDIS is set in a small area with a cobblestone path of bushes of white flowers at either side. there’s a bench, too, and, atop the blue box, a raven that’s been waiting for them to step out.]

I mean, it kind of fits, in some way?

[ So often in a frenzy, from moment to moment, he misses the smaller details, the ones that are so important. Excited to show off his TARDIS, he'd completely overlooked the rest of his surroundings. He does that far too often, too, not noticing the smaller things. Perhaps here, he needs to...slow down.

And as he steps back outside a few paces and looks around, he does a small turn, surveying it all, a soft smile on his face. ]

I love what you've done here. Really — fab! No, no, that's not the right word, it's not enough, it's...

[ He makes a show of taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, letting out a breath, and then opening his eyes again, still with a smile. ]

Beautiful. All of it. My apologies to the flowers, of course! You don't mind it here, you're sure? The madman and his blue police box?

I have to wonder why you would call yourself a madman, but no— I don't mind. [and she adds, nodding.] I'm sure.

[it's not so often that wanda has found herself with the opportunity to share something without feeling like she's coming off as too needy, or just too much. but while her exterior is of a colder temperature—arms crossed, hesitant steps—she is a lot warmer on the inside.

the decision to let him leave his blue police box here in the garden seems right.]

You might have to name the raven on your box, though. [she points, and the raven snaps to attention, hopping over to one of the corners.] Since you skipped the usual tour through the forest.

Well, we're all a little mad. Some more than others. By some, I mean me. Maybe you'll come to a different conclusion, the more you know me, but I hope not.

[ He teases with a gentle smile. Oblivious as he can be at times, the Doctor does take note of her overall demeanor, though. And as he's aware of his own recent missteps in their conversation, he can only guess at the idea perhaps she's guarding herself in some way. Something to ponder, the better he knows her. Oh, but that's what he loves so much about people; the complexities in them, the endless stories they have to tell. Sometimes, he's lucky enough to be given the gift of hearing those stories.

For now, he's grateful for this particular gift. A place in her garden. ]

A beauty, that raven. Enough that I'll have to think on a name. Something worthy!

[ There's something important he's missing, though, in all of this, and his thoughts pivot back around at last — ]

Thank you, Wanda Maximoff, for the gift of your garden.

[he'll have to think of a name? wanda looks up at the raven, who brings its head down as if a little disappointed about having to wait a little bit longer. just annoy him until he remembers to do so, is the message she tosses over towards it, and it caws once before picking up in flight.]

You'll have to remember to give it a name. It will be upset with you until you do.

[—but, at the rest, wanda just nods.]

Just be nice to my flowers, Doctor.

[don't mention it.]

( catch-all) the definite article, you might say

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