[ Like Steve thought, it's evident by the way her eyes darken that she's familiar. If not personally affected, more than aware of those around her who were. ]
Ain't me this time. No one to lose. Can't blame me hopin' you mighta had an inheritance to tell me about from a dead relative I never met, though.
[ At least, she doesn't think so. And it's possible she may or may not stop in on the kids to check on them an awful lot, but it's not something she bothers to confirm or deny out loud. It is what it is. No one's coming to help them.
The Doctor is suitably impressed with Steve's countenance through the whole exchange, though. He's kind, respectful, quick to put someone at ease. Just the sort you'd be okay with hearing anything at all from, even if it's terrible. He just wishes it wasn't so terrible now. He chimes in to echo Steve's words. ]
We're grateful, thank you. Can I have your name?
[ She quickly frowns, thrown off guard. To be fair to her, he doesn't frame it perhaps the best way, almost intrusive in his delivery. Her response is to recoil a bit and say, My name? Why? Ain't important. The Doctor seems unconcerned by her reaction and doesn't miss a beat, Your name is who you are and who you are is important, but I don't actually need it, I suppose. I'll remember you anyway. The kind woman in the house with a crooked door who looks after the children two blocks away. Carry on, eh? Please. Do take care.
With that, the Doctor gives a little nod and smile and starts to turn to go, already ten steps away in his mind, if not actually physically that far away. Once they start walking and they're alone, the Doctor speaks out loud, loud enough for Steve to hear, but not actually to Steve, more like a verbal note out loud to himself. ]
Two hundred and thirty steps from the portal. No-Name with a crooked door and no window.
[ He'd been able to see on the other side of her house that her back window was missing, boarded up but not very well. It's a reminder to himself to come back and check on her, fix up the door and the window when he can. Then, as though he hasn't actually said any of it out loud at all, he turns to look and remark to Steve — ]
Everything that happened there in the pit, and here — [ He looks around at the tattered buildings and then back to Steve. ] You lived through all of it.
no subject
Ain't me this time. No one to lose. Can't blame me hopin' you mighta had an inheritance to tell me about from a dead relative I never met, though.
[ At least, she doesn't think so. And it's possible she may or may not stop in on the kids to check on them an awful lot, but it's not something she bothers to confirm or deny out loud. It is what it is. No one's coming to help them.
The Doctor is suitably impressed with Steve's countenance through the whole exchange, though. He's kind, respectful, quick to put someone at ease. Just the sort you'd be okay with hearing anything at all from, even if it's terrible. He just wishes it wasn't so terrible now. He chimes in to echo Steve's words. ]
We're grateful, thank you. Can I have your name?
[ She quickly frowns, thrown off guard. To be fair to her, he doesn't frame it perhaps the best way, almost intrusive in his delivery. Her response is to recoil a bit and say, My name? Why? Ain't important. The Doctor seems unconcerned by her reaction and doesn't miss a beat, Your name is who you are and who you are is important, but I don't actually need it, I suppose. I'll remember you anyway. The kind woman in the house with a crooked door who looks after the children two blocks away. Carry on, eh? Please. Do take care.
With that, the Doctor gives a little nod and smile and starts to turn to go, already ten steps away in his mind, if not actually physically that far away. Once they start walking and they're alone, the Doctor speaks out loud, loud enough for Steve to hear, but not actually to Steve, more like a verbal note out loud to himself. ]
Two hundred and thirty steps from the portal. No-Name with a crooked door and no window.
[ He'd been able to see on the other side of her house that her back window was missing, boarded up but not very well. It's a reminder to himself to come back and check on her, fix up the door and the window when he can. Then, as though he hasn't actually said any of it out loud at all, he turns to look and remark to Steve — ]
Everything that happened there in the pit, and here — [ He looks around at the tattered buildings and then back to Steve. ] You lived through all of it.