Brooms! Brooms were always nice. Nice and strong, brooms were. With their coarse bristles and their ability to pick up the tiniest little specks of dust and…
Had he really been standing there this entire time admiring the broom that he was supposed to be using for sweeping the corridors with? Simple answer; yes, he was. But in his defense, it was a nice broom.
Engrossing himself back into the wonders of a broom, the Doctor didn’t even notice the other being approaching him down the hallway until she spoke up. Peering over his spectacles, the Time Lord arched his brow and dropped his head so he could see her more properly.
“Hm?” He started, still essentially not paying attention - that was until he could clearly see that the woman before him was distressed. “Oh! Hello! Sorry, myself. I was just… inspecting this broom before I use it on the floors. Wouldn’t want a dirty broom.” He grinned at her as he set the broom aside and glanced around as he allowed his mind to playback what she’d said.
“You’ve lost your daughter? Millie Smith.” He repeated the name and searched his memory. “Good name; Smith. It’s my last name too.” He grinned again, before turning to head towards the nearest computer. “If you give me a moment, I can search the cameras and see if she’s anywhere in the school. Or we can look for her together…” he trailed off as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “You said she looks like you, yes?”
Doc had been heading back to the staff room after his last class, when he spotted a familiar silhouette in the corridor.
A very familiar silhouette. And he was wearing the blue suit too, the cheek. And the brainy spectacles. Honestly, the school was only big enough for one blue suited spectacle wearing Doctor with great hair.
He’d just started to saunter up to the Doctor when someone else beat him to the punch, and he arrived just in time to hear the tail end of the exchange.
“Oh? Another Smith? Good! We can always do with more Smiths,” he said, stepping up beside the Doctor and giving the mother-of-Millie-Smith a big smile. “Millie Smith, eh?” He wracked his memory. “Millie Smith, Millie Smith… OH! Millie Smith! That’s right. Likes the middle row, doesn’t like to speak up in class, wears …” his eyes trailed to the mother’s hands, “…gloves a lot? The last time I saw her was about” (exactly) “thirteen minutes ago, after the last class. I thought she was headed towards the canteen.”
Realising belated that he’d completely skipped over introductions, he gave Millie’s mother a big smile. “I’m Doctor John Smith, by the way. No relation to him,” he nodded at the Doctor. “Well, not really. Well… it’s complicated.”
Oh. Well he was eccentric, wasn’t he? And a big fan of brooms. Then again, maybe not so strange for a caretaker. She’d stick with that, sure. And anyway, she wasn’t looking for strange, she was looking for Millie. Millie who was definitely not lost.. probably. Millie who this other Smith (well, at least she’d picked a generic name, yeah?) seemed to think he could help her find.
The other man in the same blue suit with the same spacey hair seemed to know an awful lot about. Maybe they were twins? Though was seemed more likely was that one (if not both, let’s be real, it was worse case scenario time) of them was definitely there to... well, kill her seemed the most generous scenario. So much for blending in.
“She’s got... allergies,” she stammered, realising just a moment too late it didn’t need saying -- people who have nothing to hide rarely respond to such obvious baiting. “We both do...”
Come on, Evie. Get it together.
If one -- or both -- of them had her daughter, well, she’d just have to out smart them, wouldn’t she?
“Is that so,” she started, crossing her arms over her chest as she took a step towards them -- trying not to appear as scared as she felt, “how does that work then?”
