𝗙𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗪𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱.
( five times the receiver watched the sender while they were working or doing something ) [jinju & goth] @rimefiles
𝟏) 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.
A whooshing and groaning cannot be heard over the blaring of the music echoing across a concert hall. A packed venue for an Idol group known as Rogue suppresses the sound of the Police Box materializing within the rafters of the concert hall. The door swings open, and what can only be described as a vagrant exits the box. Wearing a black cotton coat that cuts at the knees, over a darker red jacket and a black sweatshirt— as well as black jeans and lace-up boots, The Doctor steps out. Holding his Sonic Screwdriver in his hand, the red light on the end makes a steady and rhythmic beeping. He seems disgruntled by whatever it is he's tracking as he shuts the police box doors behind them, the click echoing out to confirm to him the doors are locked.
"This is the last time I chase Mogwai... who even keeps Mogwai in their shop?" He mumbles, tracking life signatures as he crosses the rafters above the stage. Wreathed in shadow, save for the beeping of his screwdriver, The Doctor continues mumbling— "Oh yeah, let me sell you a pet troll, but remember— don't water it! And no snacks after midnight—" A rattling above him causes him to shut his mouth immediately as he takes his hand off the activation button, his screwdriver turning off. "Sounds like that might be my guy—" He starts trying to get his eyes onto anything he can see before his eyes look down at the stage. His head tilts softly when he sees the performers down on the stage.
His eyes gravitated toward the one in pink, naturally. Ruby eyes blink softly at her, momentarily captured by the singing and the choreography of the performers before suddenly a snapping causes his head to snap up. There, in the rafters, is a Gremlin— who's just snapped a stage light. The Doctor watches it fall and crash onto the stage. The music stops, and there's screaming. He can hear security rushing their way up to the rafters. He exhales, watching the Mogwai scuttle up into a nearby vent,
Great. Just great.
2) 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒.
Well, that was an embarrassing Tuesday— but! He had managed to capture all the Mogwai, returning them to their rightful habitat somewhere deep and far away in space. Now, he was back in the 18th century. A meteor had fallen through time and crashed somewhere in...
He stopped, standing outside of the box. A village somewhere in the middle of a bamboo forest? That could be anywhere! He hummed, shutting the Police Box behind him. Bouncing from a 21st-century Idol concert to an 18th-century fishing village was probably a culture shock to some, but he seemed unphased by the rapidly shifting environments. Questions about the environment had led him up into the mountains, where sources say the meteor had crashed. It was a long walk! He liked the fresh air, though. He hummed, rather quietly as he finally reached the peak of the mountain.
There was a well at the peak of the mountain, and The Doctor had found himself distracted by a woman— sitting by the well. He blinked, tilting his head. Wasn't that the... woman from the Idol band? She looked up toward him, which prompted him to quickly hide behind something. He didn't think she'd seen him, but even then— something loud in the forest seemed to scare her off.
Something to do with his meteor, perhaps?
3) 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒅.
Not a meteor. Sontarans. Once again, trying to interfere with the course of human history. It was annoying to deal with those potato heads. The Police Box had parked on the corner of a street, back on Earth. After encountering a strange woman twice, in two different periods, he'd felt something drawing him toward a music shop. What was the year? 2030? 2035? He hadn't kept much track. The phones were slimmer, from what he could tell. That seemed annoying. Also, they do a lot of holograms, now. There seemed to be one outside the music shop he was walking to. His eyes found a sign.
Record signing? Real Rogue holograms? Rogue? Like from that comic book—
He looked past the crowd, seeing the hologram members. His eyebrows squeezed tightly in confusion. Rogue? Wait a second! That's the IDOL group with that pink-haired lady in it! Really?! That's three times! In the same week! That's gotta be a record. He's finding himself getting more and more frustrated. The store's gonna be CROWDED! How's he supposed to do his research now? It's okay— It's okay.
He'll just come back last week.
4) 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈.
So he had wanted to come back to the music store on Wednesday like he'd said— try and grab it in that same-day window (really, time travel is super convenient) but he'd picked up a distress signal from the moons of Alpha Meeson, and well— he'd gotten distracted helping out an old friend. Turns out Slitheen was trying to scam the inhabitants of the Meeson Moon out of their land. It was a whole ordeal, one he didn't want to think about. So! Thursday. A week before Rogue's record signing event.
The Police Box clicks open, and The Doctor heads toward the shop after locking her up. This time, he can tell! No crowds! Just a woman wearing casual clothing, accompanied by some business-looking people— she's wearing a ball cap, but pink strands peak out— Hey wait a second!!!
"Are you kidding me?" He cursed quietly, from afar. "She's the one that booked the venue? Don't they have an agent? Good lord. Talk about being a go-getter." He mumbled under his breath. That's it! He's gotta talk to this woman! But not now, she's busy. You never interrupt a woman while she's working. That much he knows. He's just gonna try to take the most inconspicuous scan of her temporal signature from afar— and hope nobody saw that little red light from under his sleeve. "Creepiest thing I've ever done, for sure." The Doctor mumbled on his way back to the TARDIS, as he checked the readings on his screwdriver.
In the TARDIS, he clicked various switches and thanks to the reading of that pink-haired lady's temporal signature— he can see here that on Friday night, she'll go to a private lounge. Great! Perfect time. Just... stroll up to her at the bar... how hard can it be?
5) 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈.
Psychic paper helps him get into a whole lot of places. Health and safety is a good excuse, he finds, to help him get into places. However, he's gotta keep his mind sharp. He enters the lounge. It's like one of those 1920 speakeasies. Or... maybe it is a 1920s speakeasy. The TARDIS isn't a reliable machine, as much as she is his home and his life— maybe he scanned a Friday night from some weird era. Whatever it was, he was inside now— and right there... at the bar.
He gets suspicious about fate. Whenever it brings him to someone, he feels like the universe is about to put him through hell. However, his curiosity's just too damn loud to not approach her. He exhales. All he's gotta do is say something... smooth... right? Socializing. Humans do it all the time. He just approaches the bar, sits next to the pink woman he's accidentally been following through time, and—
"You're immortal, aren't you?"
Nailed it.
