sue him–on a regular basis, he enjoys the turbulence. he understands
the blue stabilizers serve the purpose of keeping the TARDIS’ shivering
to a minimal (which is why they’re dim and twitching), but he cannot ver-
balize the amount of comforting pleasure the rattle provides. it’s familiarity,
as mundane and insignificant as the attribute of his constant travels tend to
be. back hunched up against a structure near the console (a supporting
arc), his knuckles burn white, a laugh thudding from his chest when he
watches koschei fuss with the controls. quickly, it dissolves into a quiet
panic, though when he performs without ill intent—
the doctor shuffles forth when the ship stabilizes, one hand settling
at the notch of his hip. ‘ we’re flyin’ through space, don’t know if i’d
call tha’ drivin’ anyhow–an’ i liked it like that, thank y’ very much.
shoo. away from m’ console. ‘
“ oh, you’re right, you’re absolutely right, i can’t call that driving at all -- “
his acting is wonderful but, if you know him, then you would know the PAUSE
he leaves in the air is only just the BUILD UP to his punch line.
“ what you were doing is called CRASHING. “
his eyes drop to the doctor & fixes him with a large SMILE filled with nothing
but false innocence. he leans himself onto the console, taking a tighter grip on
the controls. the doctor may like his BUMPY RIDE but his dear master wants
for something SMOOTHER at the moment so he’s not backing down. --- not
to mention he also simply LOATHES complying to direct orders from the
doctor. even if he didn’t mind the turbulence he’s NOT the obedient type.
“ and let you toss us into some black hole? i don’t think so. “
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