[It is hard not to believe him, yeah. His words seem to soothe some of Newton's nervous circling, and he looks at the Doctor with relief and trust in his gaze. Maybe it's Clara's fault for making him sound like a larger than life hero at times, or maybe the Doctor has done more than enough to prove himself in the depths of Newton's own mind, but the little scientist hangs on the Doctor's every word in moments of struggle such as these.
He nods urgently and forces himself to stand straight and unmoving, arms folded tight over his chest.]
[ The Doctor nods, pointing the tip of the sonic screwdriver at the general vicinity of Newt's head where the precursors would have nestled themselves into, buried in the consciousness and rooted into something deep within his friend. It buzzes and glows a bright, emerald green, unique to this particular face.
For the briefest of seconds, the Doctor does, in fact, wonder that Newt might be right but only because the tension in the air is strong enough with Newt's fear that it becomes inevitably contagious.
(And of course he assures himself that if Newt were correct, he does in fact know how to pinpoint them now, and he's confident that he (and the others) can coax them out again if needed.)
It's with a sense of relief that he keeps quite internal (for both their sake's) that the sonic shows no traces of precursor activity anywhere. Newt is fine. He's fine.
He knew he would be.
The Doctor's expression suddenly brightens considerably. ]
There we go. And — hah! Good news. You're still clean.
[Newt's gone a bit manic from whatever's happening in his head, but stopping and holding his breath and letting the Doctor do his thing helps root him back to the ground beneath him. A hopefulness glimmers under the hooded, tired look he gives his friend in the moment, and when the Doctor speaks again, there's an overwhelming, exhaustive relief that pulls on his shoulders and turn his legs weak. You're still-]
Clean. Got it. Awesome. Right — like, I knew that. I mostly knew.
[He didn't mostly know. Or maybe he did, but some little voice said otherwise? He feels like an idiot, now that he's come back to himself. He looks around the room like he's only just realized the actual situation he's barreled himself into. A hand drags through his mussed hair, and he smiles weakly. He must look like a nuthouse.]
It's just good to be sure. Like how rollercoasters have lap bars and seatbelts? If the lap bar fails, you wanna have something else holding you. My brain's a lapbar, and that's, just, uh. [He motions to the sonic screwdriver.] A seatbelt.
[ The Doctor pockets his screwdriver, back where it belongs (in the pocket of his jacket) and reaches out to pat his friend's shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze.
He couldn't fault Newt, or anyone really, for their residual fears. And not only because he feels as though he could easily succumb to such things himself; he just happens to deal with it in different ways. Less healthy ways. But we don't talk about that. ]
It's not a bad seatbelt, as far as seatbelts go. Though I wouldn't recommend it in a car.
[ Checking up on precursor activity, fixing a cabinet, yes. An actual car seatbelt? No, no. Absolutely not. ]
And it's a lucky thing that I'm rather available for those on-call visits.
[Newt gnaws his lip, looking less than sure. Nothing to be sorry for, huh? He's pretty sure he could blame Newt for, like. Messing up his perfectly pleasant night in his room. Even still, the Doctor's words seem to soothe that guilt that had been festering in the hollow of his gaze. He smiles weakly, giving his arm a soft punch.]
Yeah, man. Thanks a ton.
I should, uh. I guess I should leave you alone now, maybe go try to get some sleep.
[He's not so sure he can fall back asleep. He'll probably just stare at his wall until most everyone else is wide awake again.]
[ The thing is — well, the thing is, the Doctor can make a pleasant night of just about any circumstance, if given the opportunity to. A little excitement and a helpful task (such as helping a friend) really only gives him a bigger sense of purpose, making his pleasant night even moreso.
Truthfully, the worst thing is if everyone stopped needing him; now that would make for unpleasantness. ]
Of course, you're quite welcome to hang about here if you'd like to. As you can see, I don't need a whole lot of sleep myself, so — [ He gestures to his bed which is currently occupied with random knick-knacks and clothes items; easily removable with a quick swipe of the arms. ] But I quite understand if you might need a moment for yourself too. No silly Doctors to fuss over you.
[Heart still beating too fast, he scuffs his foot on the floor with absent sheepishness.]
Uhm! You wanna, like. Watch a movie. Or something?
I mean, unless you wanna check out some comics. I've got a stack of 'em you'd probably be super into.
[Usually, he's not remotely embarrassed to shove himself into any social situation. It's a little different when his neck is still sweaty from the full-bodied panic that had launched him at his friend at an ungodly hour.]
[ Please, he sounds delighted about this or comics.
Right, that decides that, then. Usually the rest of the crew are busy catching up on their zzz's and there aren't a whole lot of night owls to get up to no good with. Aside from his other self, he's been resorting to solo activities: mostly tinkering around with things in the lab, or in the kitchens. Not a bad thing either, mind you, but it can be a little too-quiet in the dead of night.
There are no friendly chimes or beeps or whirs from the TARDIS to fill that silence. ]
Oh, I haven't done either of those things in such a long time. We can do both. Lets do both.
[Honestly, the Doctor's delight immediately ignites some small measure of comfort — maybe with a little more time to breathe, he can feel just as delighted tonight. He'd love that. Love that a lot, compared to the things that poke and prod at his mind in the dead of night.]
Movie comic book night. Sounds awesome, honestly.
Got any preferences? I mean, I can't see you as a horror movie buff.
[He's not really interested in scary stuff tonight himself.]
[ The Doctor is absolutely here for good and healthy-ish habits of distraction. A silly movie, a game, a cup of tea and he's got it all down pat. He's seen horrors, he's been that very horror, but he's been kind and caring and nurturing and a saviour too.
He's got all sorts of hats in his room and, as it turns out, in his CV. If Newt needs to get anything off his chest, the Doctor leaves that door open, but he's here for a good old-fashioned cheer-up too. ]
Ha-hah. A real shocker, eh?
[ He smiles widely. ]
You know, I don't think I've seen that one. But the cleaning bot isn't allowed in here — we have an agreement, you see.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He nods urgently and forces himself to stand straight and unmoving, arms folded tight over his chest.]
Yeah, I'm ready. Sorry. Totally ready.
no subject
For the briefest of seconds, the Doctor does, in fact, wonder that Newt might be right but only because the tension in the air is strong enough with Newt's fear that it becomes inevitably contagious.
(And of course he assures himself that if Newt were correct, he does in fact know how to pinpoint them now, and he's confident that he (and the others) can coax them out again if needed.)
It's with a sense of relief that he keeps quite internal (for both their sake's) that the sonic shows no traces of precursor activity anywhere. Newt is fine. He's fine.
He knew he would be.
The Doctor's expression suddenly brightens considerably. ]
There we go. And — hah! Good news. You're still clean.
no subject
Clean. Got it. Awesome. Right — like, I knew that. I mostly knew.
[He didn't mostly know. Or maybe he did, but some little voice said otherwise? He feels like an idiot, now that he's come back to himself. He looks around the room like he's only just realized the actual situation he's barreled himself into. A hand drags through his mussed hair, and he smiles weakly. He must look like a nuthouse.]
It's just good to be sure. Like how rollercoasters have lap bars and seatbelts? If the lap bar fails, you wanna have something else holding you. My brain's a lapbar, and that's, just, uh. [He motions to the sonic screwdriver.] A seatbelt.
[... He groans into his hands.]
Sorry, dude.
no subject
[ The Doctor pockets his screwdriver, back where it belongs (in the pocket of his jacket) and reaches out to pat his friend's shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze.
He couldn't fault Newt, or anyone really, for their residual fears. And not only because he feels as though he could easily succumb to such things himself; he just happens to deal with it in different ways. Less healthy ways. But we don't talk about that. ]
It's not a bad seatbelt, as far as seatbelts go. Though I wouldn't recommend it in a car.
[ Checking up on precursor activity, fixing a cabinet, yes. An actual car seatbelt? No, no. Absolutely not. ]
And it's a lucky thing that I'm rather available for those on-call visits.
no subject
Yeah, man. Thanks a ton.
I should, uh. I guess I should leave you alone now, maybe go try to get some sleep.
[He's not so sure he can fall back asleep. He'll probably just stare at his wall until most everyone else is wide awake again.]
no subject
[ The thing is — well, the thing is, the Doctor can make a pleasant night of just about any circumstance, if given the opportunity to. A little excitement and a helpful task (such as helping a friend) really only gives him a bigger sense of purpose, making his pleasant night even moreso.
Truthfully, the worst thing is if everyone stopped needing him; now that would make for unpleasantness. ]
Of course, you're quite welcome to hang about here if you'd like to. As you can see, I don't need a whole lot of sleep myself, so — [ He gestures to his bed which is currently occupied with random knick-knacks and clothes items; easily removable with a quick swipe of the arms. ] But I quite understand if you might need a moment for yourself too. No silly Doctors to fuss over you.
no subject
[Heart still beating too fast, he scuffs his foot on the floor with absent sheepishness.]
Uhm! You wanna, like. Watch a movie. Or something?
I mean, unless you wanna check out some comics. I've got a stack of 'em you'd probably be super into.
[Usually, he's not remotely embarrassed to shove himself into any social situation. It's a little different when his neck is still sweaty from the full-bodied panic that had launched him at his friend at an ungodly hour.]
no subject
[ Please, he sounds delighted about this or comics.
Right, that decides that, then. Usually the rest of the crew are busy catching up on their zzz's and there aren't a whole lot of night owls to get up to no good with. Aside from his other self, he's been resorting to solo activities: mostly tinkering around with things in the lab, or in the kitchens. Not a bad thing either, mind you, but it can be a little too-quiet in the dead of night.
There are no friendly chimes or beeps or whirs from the TARDIS to fill that silence. ]
Oh, I haven't done either of those things in such a long time. We can do both. Lets do both.
no subject
Movie comic book night. Sounds awesome, honestly.
Got any preferences? I mean, I can't see you as a horror movie buff.
[He's not really interested in scary stuff tonight himself.]
no subject
[ Horror isn't really his go-to. Neither are long, boring biopics and dramas.
Honestly, slap a Disney cartoon and the Doctor is well and fully entertained, but he's something of a child that way. ]
Is something to do with space a bit on the nose?
[ You know, considering where they are, and who he is, and what he does. ]
no subject
Are you telling me the guy who travels all over time and space likes movies about it?
I can't believe my ears.
[Rubbing his chin, he considers their very scarce options on the station.]
... WALL-E? Do you like cute little cleaning robots like the one on the Ximilia?
no subject
He's got all sorts of hats in his room and, as it turns out, in his CV. If Newt needs to get anything off his chest, the Doctor leaves that door open, but he's here for a good old-fashioned cheer-up too. ]
Ha-hah. A real shocker, eh?
[ He smiles widely. ]
You know, I don't think I've seen that one. But the cleaning bot isn't allowed in here — we have an agreement, you see.
no subject
... An 'agreement', huh...?
What, did the robot get too offended at your living space?