Same Doctor. Different face. Different personalities. Oftentimes arguing with each other about who best knows how to jumpstart a thermonuclear plant. But deep down, they are both a silly, daft old man. They both wear the weight of all of time and space on their shoulders.
Nevertheless, as soon as the other plops in one chair, he makes his way around the other side. Still donning a pair of woolly socks to rub his feet against the patch of carpet.]
Didn’t think this body would be receptive to sweets. [Now grabbing for one of the sticks, full of delectable cream at its edge.] Turns out this mouth detests pears.
[ That they do. And it's moments like these, brief stints of levity, even between two of the same person, that somehow make the weight of what they bear feel just a little more manageable. It's the understanding that it's moments just like this one that make up a whole long lifetimes worth of good memories, a reminder of why they do the things they do, why they continue to help, why they call themselves 'the Doctor'.
And sometimes it's just nice to be a little bit childish. ]
Pears! Oh, now what did a pear ever do to you, eh? [ Jokingly said, of course, because the Doctor (fondly) remembers his first night with this face. Mouth half-full of fish-custard, he waves his bitten stick about. ] It's beans for me. And bacon. And there was that yogurt too — with the bits in. Tasted ghastly.
Ah— [The nostalgia hits him like a sack of potatoes, ever the pickiest eater.] I forgot about the beans. It wasn’t the same texture. They were always so gritty. I don’t know why they were so gritty?! It was fine when I had them in my sandshoes.
[He says all the while twirling his fish finger around as a pointer.]
Don’t even get me started with the yoghurt with the little bits in them. Such an unpleasant feeling to have something so creamy. Only to have your mouth bombarded with these unwanted guests.
[ There's a flap of his — thankfully uncustard-y — fish finger as he, too, waves it about in enthusiastic agreement.
He groans. ]
Beans. [ Said like he's definitely earned a vendetta against them for wronging him. Wronging them. ] The texture was all wrong, all wrong. So, then. What happened with the pears?
[ The Doctor hums, taking a bite out of his own fish-stick. He chews thoughtfully, considering the pear.
And he believes his older self; has no real reason not to. They're sort of ... squishy sometimes, aren't they? And sweet and a bit apple-y, but sometimes absolutely not. Deceptive is right. ]
I wonder if this mouth likes them. You know, in all my time with this face, I don't think a pear's crossed my path. I've been rather pearless, and not by choice.
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Don’t you dare come in with that smooch.Same Doctor. Different face. Different personalities. Oftentimes arguing with each other about who best knows how to jumpstart a thermonuclear plant. But deep down, they are both a silly, daft old man. They both wear the weight of all of time and space on their shoulders.
Nevertheless, as soon as the other plops in one chair, he makes his way around the other side. Still donning a pair of woolly socks to rub his feet against the patch of carpet.]
Didn’t think this body would be receptive to sweets. [Now grabbing for one of the sticks, full of delectable cream at its edge.] Turns out this mouth detests pears.
no subject
And sometimes it's just nice to be a little bit childish. ]
Pears! Oh, now what did a pear ever do to you, eh? [ Jokingly said, of course, because the Doctor (fondly) remembers his first night with this face. Mouth half-full of fish-custard, he waves his bitten stick about. ] It's beans for me. And bacon. And there was that yogurt too — with the bits in. Tasted ghastly.
no subject
[He says all the while twirling his fish finger around as a pointer.]
Don’t even get me started with the yoghurt with the little bits in them. Such an unpleasant feeling to have something so creamy. Only to have your mouth bombarded with these unwanted guests.
no subject
[ There's a flap of his — thankfully uncustard-y — fish finger as he, too, waves it about in enthusiastic agreement.
He groans. ]
Beans. [ Said like he's definitely earned a vendetta against them for wronging him. Wronging them. ] The texture was all wrong, all wrong. So, then. What happened with the pears?
no subject
[The Doctor doesn’t remember when exactly he came to such a conclusion, but within his heart of hearts; it seemed right.]
Pears are eerily deceptive.
no subject
And he believes his older self; has no real reason not to. They're sort of ... squishy sometimes, aren't they? And sweet and a bit apple-y, but sometimes absolutely not. Deceptive is right. ]
I wonder if this mouth likes them. You know, in all my time with this face, I don't think a pear's crossed my path. I've been rather pearless, and not by choice.