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The Doctor circled the TARDIS console slowly, talking quietly to himself as he set the coordinates.

"Earth... Wales... Cardiff... 2008... July... 17th... noon..."

The time rotor set itself into motion, flaring with light for a few brief moments before landing. He flipped on the scanner, making a quick check to ensure he was in the right place; and, past due for a pleasant surprise, he was. Roald Dahl Plass and the Cardiff bay stretched out before him, and the position of the sun overhead suggested he wasn't far off from noon.

Settling his hat on his head, he opened the doors and headed out into the midday sun, keeping his eyes open for Ianto.
He'd long been aware, of course, the TARDIS' feelings about his traveling companions -- it ran through a number of shades of indifference, and on occasion spiked up into mild annoyance. He could feel it tickling the back of his mind, impossible to ignore. But there seemed little in the way of polite resolution, and so ignore it he did. Or at least he had. Now he found himself strolling idly across the Eye of Orion, waiting to have a talk with his oldest, dearest friend.

He still wasn't sure what to say when he heard the cry of ancient engines cut through the planet's peaceful silence.

Oops... open to te_gwas

Well. Isn't this simply wonderful.

The story is typical, really. Typical enough to be boring. The Doctor's been in this situation hundreds, probably thousands of times. Some force is intent on causing havoc in the galaxy, he's equally intent on stopping them, and when push comes to shove he winds up tied up in a storage cupboard. Depending on the specifics of the situation, he may also be threatened by ravenous beasts of some kind or other; or only have moments before a bomb or self-destruct mechanism goes off; or perhaps be dropped into a large body of water to drown... it all depended on how creative his captors were.

It had never been much of a problem. After all, he was still here, wasn't he?

But the Xyraxians who had caught him and bound his arms behind his back were terribly good with knots. Terribly, terribly good. They'd secured him rather well to some kind of grating and then simply left him here. So long as he was out of their way, they hardly seemed to mind what happened. And, really, was the blindfold necessary? His captors seemed to think it a good idea before shoving him down a lengthy maze of twisted corridors. At his final destination, alone, bound, and blind, he was feeling more helpless than he was accustomed to.

All around him it was quiet -- only the faint hum of machinery kept him company. It had been three hours, forty-six minutes, and twenty-two seconds since he'd been left. During this time he'd not heard a single footfall in the distance... or had any luck in loosening his bonds.

Simply wonderful.

Wait... there was a sound. Soft footsteps, perhaps near the end of the corridor.

He had no way of telling if it was friend or foe approaching, but either way -- but having someone to talk to couldn't be a completely bad thing. Either way, he'd try to convince them to free him, so it hardly mattered, to be honest. He called out, doing as much as he could to make himself sound friendly and non-threatening. (It wasn't much of a stretch in his current state.)


Thinking positive -- open to te_gwas

The Eye of Orion... one of the most tranquil places in the known universe. It's the positive ions, you know.

After a few weeks that were rather... well, hectic would be putting it mildly... the Doctor felt that some quiet time was called for. And there was no better place for it than the Eye. Abandoned, devoid of civilization, and perfectly, perfectly peaceful.

Or at least it was, right up until the moment an alien vrwop, vrwop, vrwop broke the silence and an odd blue box appeared in the middle of an otherwise empty field. But the sound soon fades... and again silence reigns in the cool evening air. Overhead, stars dance across the sky in every direction.