[Independent original character. Does not belong to any fandom and will roleplay with anyone. Face claim is Ellen Page.]
[Every character she meets, there's another universe. Just fyi!]
The Doctor looked curiously around at the patrons as he followed Julie into the tea shop, catching Jo’s look, and he leaned forwards to whisper in Julie’s ear, “Am I going to be hounded by all of the local buisnesses for my patronage?” He paused a moment, before adding, “Not that I’d mind. That’s what wanderers do, after all- sample the culture. And the tea! Hello!”
The Doctor pulled back and raised his voice to a normal tone as he waved a cheery hand in Jo’s direction. “I hear you have the best tea in town. Well, actually, the only tea in town- but that happens to make it the best by default. Although, I’m sure, it would be the best regardless.”
Julie rolled her eyes. “It’s only Jo who does this. He loves tourists.”
She then went and found an empty table, pulling out a chair and sitting down in it, only to scoot into the table. Julie brought back out her pocket journal and started writing in it again.
“Best tea in town? I wonder who’s been spreadin’ things?” Jo replied to The Doctor, though obviously directed at Julie.
“But it is,” Julie hollered back at him. “Why else would your shop have such loyal costumers like m’self?” She noted, turning her attention to the two at the counter. She then turned her attention back to her pocket journal.
Jo smiled and leaned his arms back on the counter, grinning. “Can I get a name? What’ll y’have?” He said, his attention turning back to The Doctor.
“I wonder indeed,” the Doctor mused amiably as he went to sit across from Julie, though he turned the chair around so he could lean it back against the wall and watch the goings-ons of the tea shop.
“I’m called the Doctor,” he introduced himself, reaching up as though to tip his hat, although since he wasn’t wearing one it ended up being more of a mime, “and I’ll have myself an English Breakfast, with just a hint of milk. Julie?” He looked over at her, watching her write. “Do you want anything? My, ah… hang on,” he reached into his pockets and started digging things out of them, depositing them on the table one by one.
“Yo-yo… measuring tap… spanner… screwdriver… sonic screwdriver… jelly babies… ah,” he pulled out a wad of notes triumphantly, “Yes. My treat.”
Jo nodded and went to his work.
Ilena smiled. “Jo knows my usual. Green tea, two sugars. Not much, but hey.” She chuckled as the Doctor pulled out the various things from his pockets. “So, you’re a wanderer. Where are y’from, if I may ask?” She asked, putting down her journal.
“Well there is the TARDIS.”
“The wot?”
“The TARDIS. My ship. Stands for time and relative dimension in space.”
“…space ship? D’you mind if I take a look at it?”
“Oh you write? What do you write?” He asked a bit excited. “And no you can’t see my hearts… I have a stethoscope.”
“Ehm…science fiction, post apocalyptic, high school slice of life…I want to get published, but I’m afraid I’m not that brilliant of a writer like Susanne Collins or John Green is.” She smiled sadly, scratching the back of her head and looking down. “Stethoscope? M-maybe you have other proof?”
“Well there is the TARDIS.”
“The wot?”
“Well I do have two hearts. And who’s this “she’ that writes bout aliens?”
“Well, I can’t see the two hearts. Oh, and the ‘she who writes about aliens’? That’s me. I’m a writer.”
“Oh you write? What do you write?” He asked a bit excited. “And no you can’t see my hearts… I have a stethoscope.”
“Ehm…science fiction, post apocalyptic, high school slice of life…I want to get published, but I’m afraid I’m not that brilliant of a writer like Susanne Collins or John Green is.” She smiled sadly, scratching the back of her head and looking down. “Stethoscope? M-maybe you have other proof?”
“Spot on. Time Lord to be precise.”
“Okay. Alien. All this science fiction-y stuff. Proof, maybe?” An alien? come on. That would be impossible. The only sorts of aliens that exists are the ones she writes about; even still, they’re not real.
“Well I do have two hearts. And who’s this “she’ that writes bout aliens?”
“Well, I can’t see the two hearts. Oh, and the ‘she who writes about aliens’? That’s me. I’m a writer.”
” ….what d’you mean ‘not by human standards’?”
“Not exactly human.”
“Ah—okay, then if you’re not human, then…a-alien?”
“Spot on. Time Lord to be precise.”
“Okay. Alien. All this science fiction-y stuff. Proof, maybe?” An alien? come on. That would be impossible. The only sorts of aliens that exists are the ones she writes about; even still, they’re not real.
“Just the Doctor.”
“Strange name, don’t ya think?” She chuckled. “Are you even truly a Doctor?”
“Ah maybe not by human standards. More of a chosen title.”
” ….what d’you mean ‘not by human standards’?”
“Not exactly human.”
“Ah—okay, then if you’re not human, then…a-alien?”
“Just the Doctor.”
“Strange name, don’t ya think?” She chuckled. “Are you even truly a Doctor?”
“Ah maybe not by human standards. More of a chosen title.”
” ….what d’you mean ‘not by human standards’?”
“Heya.”
“Hello,” she started. ” ‘names Julie. Julie McAvoy. You are?”
“Nice name there, Julie. Nice ta meet ya. I’m the Doctor.”
“…Just The Doctor?”
“Just the Doctor.”
“Strange name, don’t ya think?” She chuckled. “Are you even truly a Doctor?”
“Heya.”
“Hello,” she started. ” ‘names Julie. Julie McAvoy. You are?”
“Nice name there, Julie. Nice ta meet ya. I’m the Doctor.”
“…Just The Doctor?”
