///here goes nothing!/// Rose adjusted her bodice as she spied on what was happening, accidentally finding herself in 18th century Russia. She was playing at being a scullery maid for the minute until she figured out how to remove herself from the time. The Doctor wasn't here, nor would they ever be. Rose moved around the corner and smacked into someone, she ticked her throat and groaned, dumping the Queen's sheets onto the ground. She waved her hand and balked at the man. "Excuse me!"
There is a quiet yelp, a bit of sputtering, and then the bureaucrat into whom Rose has collided bends to help her: an almost obscene act, as far as the surrounding corsets and powdered wigs are concerned.
“Oh no, no, no, the fault is all mine. Here . . . !”
The man who picks up the contents of her basket is small but sturdy, with large kind eyes and hair tied tidily back in a midnight blue bow. His demeanor is that of a hermit crab skittering askance across sand, making good time and avoiding the dangerous tide pools of stupider crustaceans. But his smile is gentle.
“I seem to have been quite lost in thought. My apologies.”
