FOR: @soldiierman
THERE ARE MOMENTS IN THE DOCTOR’S long, complicated life that he can never unsee, never undo. Moments that fill him with the TYPE OF REGRET that can only be conveyed through metaphorical means, because trying to get him to explain them in their simplest terms is quite on par with attempting to pull teeth out of a fully-grown WOLVERINE.
The Doctor is sure that when he looks back on this moment in a century or two, it will be counted amongst those. He grits his teeth. Swallows. Shuffles awkwardly just outside the door with his hand half raised and his fist tight in preparation to knock, which he does, only because HE IS TRYING TO BE POLITE. He is fully aware that he will not be welcomed by Danny Pink for anything less, and while he’s SURE the man will come with him in a heartbeat once he says what he has to say ( perhaps currently THE GREATEST COMPLIMENT he could pay to him ), the Doctor doesn’t want to risk being turned away before he gets the words out. And he can’t get the words out in front of a classroom full of teenagers whom had, most likely, just seen their Miss Oswald twenty minutes ago in their last period. HE IS NOT AN IDIOT ; well, he is, but he can’t be about THIS.
So he knocks, just for show. He grits his teeth harder, tries to form them into an expression that is more of a grin than a grimace, but it looks like he’s doing it around a mouthful of glass.
“ Mr Pink, ” he SOUNDS like he’s speaking through a mouthful of glass, too. “ Might I. Have a word. With you. Now. ”









