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[thebiologicalmetacrisis]

 [ He'd love to feel the slightest bit uneasy. Really. And now that he thought about it, uneasiness would be the normal response to a sense of forgetting some important detail. But by this point, the Doctor is hardly fazed by the dubious manila envelope at the edge of his desk, or the blank space in his memory where 'ten minutes ago' should be. So he lets it go. He'll figure it out eventually... maybe. And if he doesn't - well, so be it! Can't have been so important after all, eh?

It's the clicking of the door which snaps him out of his thoughts, literally causing him to drop what he was doing (or in this case, researching). ] 

Ah, 'lo there. [ Properly setting papers and artifacts and 'whathaveyou's aside, he takes a sip from his tea mug - because it's there. ] Long time no see--?

Comments

omg doccah yer a mess...smh

[lead_pencilskirt]

[Emma was just wrapping up the (mercifully) last of her appointments for the day when the familiar chime of her e-mail inbox dragged her attention to her computer screen. It was from Rosie; she was stuck across town and wasn't expecting to make it back for a while. To anyone else this might appear to a seemingly innocent and, admittedly, useless e-mail. But Emma could read between the lines pretty easily...

Go check on the Doc.

Welp. She was hoping to head down there anyway, to be honest. So she did. His simple greeting is expected--hell, sometimes she doesn't get one at all. But then odd inflection at the end of last sentence implies that he really has no idea at all. Oh, so it was one of those days.] Yeah, I guess that table we shared at lunch might seem like a while ago...[She plops into a chair] What're you working on?

when isn't he a mess tbh

[thebiologicalmetacrisis]

[ Ouch. Intentional or otherwise, her comment certainly manages to hit him unexpectedly. And with one thought to pester him; Poor Emma. Stuck with a friend who can't remember a thing of significance... ]
Oh, just-- [ He sets his tea down, refocusing his attention toward his desk. And pausing. ] --Cardiff's sent in a batch of new alien rubbish. Well, not new. Old. Ancient alien rubbish, really.

[ Eloquent during these turns of his, isn't he? Sniffing, he raises his brow at his company and offers up an expectant smirk. ] Did you need something?

[lead_pencilskirt]

[She just shrugs, casting a glance at the 'new, ancient alien rubbish'--she's tempted to pick up the hunk of metal that's closest to her--but she's knows he'll only take it away from her again.] Just came to say 'Hi', is all. [She sniffs, gaze idly traveling over the expanse of his desk before casually coming to rest on the mysterious manila envelope. Any other time she wouldn't look twice, but the very distinct (and familiar) handwriting on the front catches her attention immediately.] Doc--what's this? [She tentatively picks it up.] And why is it addressed to me?

smh

[thebiologicalmetacrisis]

[ Surely enough, it's only seconds before he's carefully pulling the object from her palms and placing it back onto the desk. ] ...Just to say 'hi'. [ She must take him for an idiot. That's the only explanation he can think of at the moment - and it makes enough sense, he supposes. Burning mind, less bright than he used to be. Of course she isn't here to 'say hi'... but he doesn't hold Emma's good intentions against her. ]

Hm? [ Following her gaze, his brow furrows as she picks up the yellow envelope. Addressed to her? That can't be right... ]
Not sure, actually. I... picked it up in the hall. Someone must have dropped it on their way to the lift.

derpderpderp

[lead_pencilskirt]

[Oh c'mon Doc, lighten up would ya? Maybe if you'd explain to her what some of this stuff is, she wouldn't be so tempted to play with it all the time.

But the odd object is forgotten immediately as she turns the mysterious envelope over, sliding her finger along the sealed flap. Pulling the neat stack of papers into her lap, she silently thumbs through them, brow furrowing as she skims through the typed letter on the top from--well, it's from Liam. No, no wait--it's from 'Detective Inspector William D. Riley,' right.]

Uh-huh, [She intones, quickly flipping through the other pages.] and could that someone possibly have been a faintly familiar Scottish copper? This is from Liam, Doc. [Here, take a look for yourself Doc; she holds out the page for him to see. Gods, the letterhead takes up half of the paper. Compensating for something New Scotland Yard?] Did you see him earlier? [Welp, apparently her visit is warranted after all.]

/flops why am i still awake

[thebiologicalmetacrisis]

Right. I can see that. [Blimey, this new frustration of his seems to be coming from two separate sources entirely. On one hand, he's kicking himself for not remembering sooner. (Or at all... because he really doesn't recall meeting Liam earlier this morning), and on the other, -- yes, Emma. He can read. Go figure.]

Must have. [Alright now, there's little point in getting short with her. It's not Emma's fault he has the memory of a goldfish. So he lets his breath go and leans back, lightening his spirits as if by the shake of his head... also in refusal to take a better look at the paper in her hand.] Good thing you dropped by then, isn't it? To say 'hi', that is. [He shoots her a mindful smirk, quickly fleeting as his eyes drop to his desk again.] I'm not trying to cause any trouble, Emma. Trust me--if I were, you'd know. I'm just sorry you're caught in the middle of... [But he shakes his head, giving a passive sniff as his thumb idly traces the the metal object in his hand.] Forget it. Thanks for visiting.