open ; catch all for October

[bossily]

CHARACTERS: Clara Oswald & OPEN
LOCATION: Around the station
DATE: 10/17-10/21
CONTENT: Clara pops back onto the station after a canon update
WARNINGS: Mentions of death


I. Twice Returned
[Time is such a funny thing, really. In her time spent traveling with the Doctor, she's come to understand that it can be such a meaningless thing. Except for when it's important. And in the series of events that have just unfolded for her, time feels incredibly important. Vital, even.

The thing is, she remembers being on the station before. Remembers her friends there, and the missions. And she remembers the orbs. It had all been one big adventure before. But then she was sent back, gone in a blink of an eye. For those close to her, it's not likely they even will notice she's gone. For her though, time passes more slowly. Hours turn to days away, and days to week. Before she knows it, years have passed. Time spent aging and growing, developing into a different person. Clara Oswald has a home on Earth maybe, but she no longer feels the same sort of attachment to it that she once had. With the loss of Danny Pink and the intensity of her connection growing stronger with each adventure after, Clara's left more and more of her life on Earth behind.

Sure, it's fine to tap in and out of London to check in on people like Rigsy. People who are friends. People who -

Well, people who Clara's willing to die for. Her reckless streak has finally caught up to her in the form of a chronolock. One that's recently taken her life. Or maybe it took her life billions of years ago, things are a bit fuzzy at the moment. She recalls coming back, recalls learning the Doctor spent billions of years in a personal hell because of her dying. She recalls stealing her own TARDIS, recalls making the one person she loves more than anyone forget everything about her.

She had done it for his own good, and the good of the universe. It's a bit hard to justify staying together when you know an entire prophecy was written as a warning to keep you apart. It won't do to have their relationship bring on the hybrid.

Which is exactly why she's confused as she's pulled back into the station and has to try and sort things out. Is the Doctor still here, she wonders. Have billions of years passed here too? Only a few days? Weeks?

Time had started to feel meaningless for her.

That was before the raven swooped in and changed everything.

Now it feels increasingly important to pinpoint exact moments in time. Her fingers press against the inside of her left wrist as she slowly navigates the hallways. There's a heartbeat there. But there shouldn't be. When she bumps into someone as she walks she owlishly blinks up at them, her fingers slipping away.]

How long has it been since the last mission?



II. Sunlight Room
[For those that know her well enough, it's easy to tell that something is a little off. She looks a little older in her face, her eyes holding a maturity that she had previously been lacking. She's seen and been through so many things in her time away that being back here almost feels surreal. It doesn't feel like it should be possible.

But she's the impossible girl, or at least she once had been. She knows from experience that anything is possible. Usually she's the one forcing the impossible to happen. There's almost something comical about the fact that she finally was in full control of her own destiny. She had the ability to be the Doctor in her own right, traveling whenever and wherever she wanted. She could face her death when she was ready and go back to it the long way around.

She finally had all the control she wanted, only to have it torn away from her again. But she knew now she had a distinct purpose for being here. She couldn't remember her regret from before, but knew that it couldn't be as important as the one she wanted to undo now. She would do whatever it took to protect the Doctor. Even if it meant rewriting time itself.

She stands in the sunlight room, head tipped so she can peer up at the artificial light. It's almost like she's looking for something. She hears the sound of someone walking past and reaches out to grab hold of their hand. There's no words at first, no sign of what she wants. Really, she's just desperate for some kind of contact right now. A reminder to anchor her to the reality of being back and having a purpose again.]

Do you think this station had a purpose before we all arrived here?


III. Kitchen

[Apparently coming back to life and getting her heartbeat back means that the threat of being caught between her last heartbeat and death doesn't have to be an immediate threat. What is the immediate issue is that no amount of food seems to be enough. Clara's typically anxious over the amount of supplies on the station and worrying about whether or not everyone has enough. She started her hydroponic garden to help ensure the children have plenty to eat. But now that concern is far from her mind as she camps out in the kitchen and eats.

She spends hours grazing her way around the kitchen, only pausing when she catches sight of someone else entering. Her mouth is usually full when this happens, and she swallows what's in her mouth to try and awkwardly smile.]

Right, so...I can explain.

[She still thinks supplies are an issue and she should apologize for just stuffing her face this way.]


IV. Personal Quarters - closed close CR
[Clara spends as little time as possible in the room she shares with the Doctor. She finds herself not really wanting or needing to sleep those first handful of days back, only getting some catnaps here and there around the station. But when she finally feels disgusting and in ready of freshening up, she makes her way back to her quarters at long last.

After cleaning up and getting a change of clothes, she spends an extraordinary amount of time looking in the small mirror hanging on the wall by her bed. Typically her ego doesn't see any issue with admiring her reflection. Her purpose for looking today has little to do with how amazing her hair looks or how on point her eyeliner is. No, she's far more concerned about something else. It's easy to pretend like she hasn't been gone at all with the others. When it comes to the Doctor...well, she has her concerns. He'll be able to tell she's different immediately, just from the look in her eyes.

But it's the number that's tattooed on the back of her neck that she's worried about. Is it even still there? Clara gathers up her short hair to lift it up and turn in a way she can look at what she's afraid will be there. And sure enough, the numbers 001 are there, taunting her. There's no escaping the chronolock. Even here in another dimension and possibly even another universe entirely it follows her. It's a reminder of what she has waiting for her. Of what she has to hide from the man that's willing to tear the fabric of the universe apart if it means protecting her.

No matter what happens, the Doctor can never know her fate.

She's so caught up in her thoughts that she doesn't hear the door open at first. Her close friends know they're always able to just come inside, and it's likely the Doctor could pop back in as well. As soon as she realizes she's not alone her hair is dropped, hopefully masking any sign of the fact she's marked with a permanent countdown. She forces a smile, though it doesn't quite meet her eyes. She's able to keep her tone as fond and teasing as ever, which is a win. Banter is exactly what she needs to cheer up right about now.]

Let me guess. You want me to come see something you've done that shows how amazingly clever you are?

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[kovach]

[ it wouldn't be the first time someone's asked about sleeves, and by now, he's probably recited some of his own world's history a number of times to anyone that showed interest, not necessarily because he's so eager to talk about it, but because it reminds him that it's real, that even if he's yet to find someone here with a stack in their neck, it really is what his life has been for the past nearly three centuries.

somehow, if there's anyone who probably should know about it, it's clara. with what's happened between them, it seems pretty fair to keep her filled on the truth of this body.

despite the hour of the night, he does actually have clothes on this time around, sliding on his boots and rolling up the sleeves of a dark long-sleeved shirt as he slips through the station's halls to make his way to the kitchen, finding her inside already heating up the water.

it's the first he's seen her since that night, since his bedroom, and he watches her for a few moments, smirk slight in the corner of his lips as he leans his arm against the frame of the entryway before speaking up. ]

You ever sleep?

[bossily]

[She's a little preoccupied with focusing on the heat of the stovetop before he arrives. Her hands grip hold of the edge of the counter after placing the kettle on, and she finds herself wondering if this sort of heat still feels the same.

She can feel emotions. Feels pleasurable things. But her senses still feel off somehow, dulled. There's a moment of hesitation when she considers running her hand up above the burner. Not enough to burn, but just so she can feel the heat.

His voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she turns to face him with a smile.]

Not really. [It's an easy counter, and is honest for all it sounds like she's being patronizing.] I've been having...dreams.

[Or nightmares, really. She's sure he'll read between the lines and figure that out.]

Sleep only happened when I'm with someone else.

[Aka: when I was with him that one time.

And whether that's a security or a comfort thing, she isn't sure. It's easier not to think on it. But now that he's here, her personal issues don't matter. What matters is the fact he's here on time, and is open to discussing his sleeve situation.

Given what's happened between them, she does have some questions. But it's more a genuine curiosity about him and the world he comes from. This isn't meant to be an interrogation. Just friends coming together to have a late night chat.]

[kovach]

[ he can easily translate "dreams" when she says it, seeing as how he has plenty of his own nightmares fairly regularly. a part of it's a lasting effect of the sleeve change, something that should be temporary over the course of the first few days, but it's almost like being transferred over here has somehow tainted the whole process and he's stuck on a loop night after night.

it's why he barely sleeps himself and possibly why they always seem to find themselves in their shared company at this hour. sleep only happening with someone else? well, he can understand that too. ]

Is the tea any help? [ he gestures to it with a nod as he steps further into the kitchen. ] I usually go for something harder. Whiskey works pretty good.

[bossily]

[She doesn't answer him right away. The tea really isn't ever any help, but not many things are.]

A few years ago, I would've said that whiskey was the eleventh most disgusting thing in the entire world.

[But that was then. and this is now.]

I wouldn't be against something harder. If you wanted to skip the tea.

[kovach]

[ his brow raises at her response to the suggestion, spoken more as an offhand comment than something he'd expected her to actually take into consideration. ]

That's sure some development from that kind of ranking.

[ he's not sure whether to be impressed or concerned.

but with a purse of his lips, he's not opposed to her line of thinking, making his way to the cupboards and opening one up. considering the difficulty he'd had in finding a good drink when he'd first arrived, the trip to braccia had him storing a few bottles in his belongings which made their way back here. some are kept here, some in his own room — but inviting her back to the latter seems like something to hold off on for the time being.

reaching into the back, he pulls out a bottle of whiskey, giving it a wave. ]

You sure? Hate to be a bad influence. [ as if. ]

[bossily]

[It's with a roll of her eyes that she makes her way over to him so she can take the bottle from his hands. Some people might bother with things like glasses. Clara typically might, if this were daytime and he were someone else. She doesn't need to put on an act for him, pretend that everything's okay and she's just fine.

So the bottle is opened and she takes a swig straight from it, shuddering as it goes down.]

You love being a bad influence, and we both know it.

[The coy little smile on her face says she doesn't really mind the fact.]

Besides, this - [She gives the bottle a light shake. He's more than welcome to take it from her for a drink.] Is only until the tea's ready. It gives you time to start telling me about your borrowed body.

[Which sadly, isn't the strangest thing she's said recently. It says a lot that she can talk about his borrowed body without blinking or even seeming uncomfortable with the idea.]

[kovach]

[ if he was impressed by her going along with the idea of the drink, he's even more so by the fact that she doesn't bother going for a glass, especially since even he typically brings them out himself, even when he's on his own.

but he can't help the slight grin about being a bad influence, especially when he enjoys it plenty whenever she decides to bypass proper behavior to do whatever she wants, particularly around him. ]

Right. Wouldn't want you coming up with all sorts of ideas on your own by keeping that out of context.

[ who knows where her imagination might take her? first, he's reaching in to take the bottle from her hands, eyes on her even as he brings it up to his lips and takes a drink. unlike her, he doesn't react from feeling it run down his throat. ]

Let me preface this by saying I didn't steal it. People love to assume that. Wasn't my choice to be in the body of a dumb pretty boy.

[bossily]

[He almost sounds like the Doctor right now, the older of the two that are here. That's enough to make her smile, but she's quick to try and duck her head and hide her grin behind her hand.]

Right, so I probably shouldn't go on about how attractive you are. Wouldn't want to insult you by being fond of a dumb pretty face.

[It's more a tease to lighten the mood. She hadn't thought he stole the body, but needs a couple of seconds to think of how she wants to put her more serious thought.]

Did someone force you to go into this body then?

[kovach]

Pretty much.

[ but to explain the situation with bancroft means starting from the beginning. taking another swig, he tilts the bottle over to her so she can have another turn. ]

Where I come from, a long time ago, people discovered a way to download the human consciousness into these disks called stacks, which stores everything that makes a person's mind and soul what it is — thoughts, memories, personalities. As soon as we hit the age of one, every person in the settled worlds gets implanted with a stack in the base of their skull.

[ raising a hand, he gestures to it by rubbing at his nape where a thin, horizontal line forms a scar, possibly easily lost amongst the many others on his body, something she may or may not have noticed the night her fingers touched various corners of his skin. ]

So even if the body dies, if the stack's undamaged, it can be stored into a different body, which we call sleeves. Technically, too much body jumping can cause personality frag on the consciousness data, but there's ways around that. [ methods probably a bit too complicated and irrelevant to get into right now. ] But essentially needlecasting can be done to get a person's data transferred from body to body in seconds, even across to different planets, different star systems.

Long story short, a bit of trouble got me arrested so they put my stack on ice indefinitely. Kept me in the dark for two hundred and fifty years when I woke up in this ... borrowed body because some rich asshole wanted me to solve his own murder. And now here I am.

[ very long story short, considering all the details he's leaving out, but that should round up the sum of it. ]

[bossily]

[This is a lot to take in all at once. She understands what he's saying, but there's a lot of moral issues she's quickly seeing a problem with. And more than that, she's having to figure out how he feels about his current sleeve predicament based on the tone of voice and way he's just described how things in his world work.

Suddenly, all his scars and marks on his body make sense. Sure, he's been through hell since arriving here. But there's more to it than that. And now she understands why.

She takes the bottle from him and is quiet as she thinks everything over. She manages to take a few drinks in the time it takes to decide what's most important to her here.]

So this was done to you against your will.

[Her tone is even, but her mouth's formed in a tight line. She'd stab a few people for doing anything to him against his will, not that he needs her to fight any battles for him. But she's protective of those she cares about, and now that he's someone she's fond of he's just going to have to get used to her caring and being protective.

And even as she feels a sense of wanting to keep him safe, she wonders how things like that work. If she could transfer herself into a body when it's finally her time to die. If she would even want to do something like that, considering-]

And the bodies that are used. Are they synthetic? Or are they real people who have this done to them against their will?

[kovach]

[ the way he talks about stacks and sleeves, the way he talks about being placed in a different body, it's spoken like he's speaking about anything, like any sort of casual conversation with a friend. though that likely says less about his own feelings about it — fairly used to keep his tone as apathetic about most things as a front — and more about how normal the law is in his world. even if a lot of these things weren't in place before he'd woken from his 250-year "nap", he's not necessarily surprised how much worse the world has gotten. ]

Some of them can be. Synthetic bodies can be made to shift into what people want, or there's even self-cloning, but only people with a hell of a lot of money can afford anything like that.

[ basically the rich hold all the power. something he'd fought once to try to prevent in the first place. he can see the concern she has about that concept, and he feels bad about explaining how much worse it is than she's probably thinking. ]

Things like a person's will — that long since stopped mattering to the law or the rich or just about anybody with any inkling of power. We can barely clutch to ownership of our own stacks, but our sleeves? Mine always belonged to the Protectorate. And if the one I had when they caught me hadn't already been shred to pieces by their bullets, I still would've been forced to give up my right to a body the moment they arrested me.

[ turning, he leans himself against the counter, arms crossing as he sighs. ]

Bodies are money. If you lose the one you're in somehow, that's on you. Guy who owned this body, gave it up as soon they put him on ice. His girlfriend tried maintaining payments on his sleeve mortgage — richer asshole outbid her on a grudge. And according to him — even I'm considered his property now, since he bought me out of that prison. By law — [ he shrugs, a humorless chuckle in his breath. ] I technically have no rights. So anything I hate about what they do, doesn't matter.

[bossily]

[She finds it hard to imagine living in a world where this sort of thing is normal. Not only is it normal, it's perfectly acceptable. But in all the places she's seen and things she's experienced, it's not the most far fetched thing she's had to try and wrap her mind around.]

You're here now.

[Which is to say that his thoughts and feelings matter, and he has just as many rights as the next person that's signed up to orb away their regrets.]

And just like it is with the Doctor, your face doesn't matter.

[She's moved to stand right in his personal space now, smiling up at him as she brings a hand up to press against his cheek. This isn't as simple as telling him to be a doctor or that everything is going to be okay. ]

You're still yourself deep down. Don't forget that.

[kovach]

[ there's a part of him that's always considering just not bothering about caring, that any difference he wanted to make in the world has lost his chance and now he's just victim to a future where it's all stopped mattering, where he's stopped mattering. he slept two hundred and fifty years and the world kept going without him.

but her gesture surprises him, her touch soft to his cheek, and so do her words. it's not the kind of thing he's used to hearing; he'd asked ortega once, when you look in my eyes, what do you see?

they're not your eyes.

kovacs exhales a soft sigh, uncrossing his arms as he raises his own hand, fingers gently sliding against the back of hers, tracing light over her knuckles. her skin is warm against his own. ]

You think that's a good thing? The guy under this face might be a lot more trouble than you know.

[bossily]

[For a man that she's sure is fully capable of killing dozens of men, he can be surprisingly gentle. His soft touches have her eyes looking upward to hold his gaze. There's a dimpled smile forming on her face as her thumb traces along his jaw to the corner of his mouth. ]

Then it's a good thing I'm used to trouble. I trust you. I don't need to know or care about more than that.

[It's with a soft chuckle that she pauses there for a moment, realizing what she's about to ask contradicts exactly what she's just said. He may call her on it, or may humor her despite it. Whatever the case, she's too curious to not ask.]

Have a bit of a question, though. What's your real name?

[It may be a rude question, she isn't sure. And she doesn't particularly need to know, since she accepts the Doctor being the Doctor at face value. A name isn't necessarily important. But she wants to dig down beneath the sleeves and physical appearance and get to know the real him even better.]

[kovach]

[ his first instinct is to tell her "you shouldn't". it's a dangerous thing to trust someone like him, and though he doesn't doubt that she really has been through her share of trouble, he also knows the sort of things that happen to the people around him, people he grows to care about.

but her touch is gentle, soothing along his jaw and he knows he's too selfish to push it away. so he keeps his fingers light across her wrist, raising his eyes with her question.

his lips purse into a slight smirk, almost amused. ]

Kovacs. [ it's not like the name's a lie. it is his name, something he hasn't bothered lying about here. but he knows what she's asking, even if it's just become a bit of a routine thing to give his surname. ] Takeshi Kovacs.

[ but he considers even that, considering the way he's begun to get used to her around, the way she trusts him, the way he trusts her, and he adds, voice a little quieter with something more personal, a name that hasn't been used in a long time. ] It's Tak.

[bossily]

Tak it is, then.

[She repeats after him, her smile more warm and fond now. It's without much of a thought that she rises up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, something chaste and affectionate. They're in the middle of the kitchen, and she's not about to do anything more than that.

Her hand falls free from his face, but doesn't try to wrestle its way out of his hold.]

I'm good for cutting drinks short, if you wanted to go someplace private to finish the conversation.

[It feels like she's dangerously close to either spilling a secret in return for his name, or like she might properly kiss him at any given moment. Maybe standing around in common areas isn't the best idea any longer.]

[kovach]

[ it's almost strange to hear the name from someone's lips again, like an echo from the past, a mere sleeve memory. yet, it's comforting too; it's hard for him to feel relaxed much these days, even with how long he's been here already, but there's something in the name that's familiar enough to make him breathe with a bit more ease.

pairing it with the soft kiss, a subtle thing, he could get drunk on that feeling even more than the whiskey they've been drinking.

she doesn't fully let go of his hand so he doesn't either, his fingertips lightly curling around hers. ]

My room's empty. [ at least it was a few moments ago before he'd left, so hopefully that hasn't changed. ] Come over?

[bossily]

There's nowhere else I'd rather be.

[She gives his hand a little tug, pulling him along after her as she leads the way back toward his room. There's a bit of a pause as she tips her head to glance up his way with a smile. It's always funny how things like this just happen, friendships that intensify to something more meaningful and special so quickly. It's doing wonders to help her feel more like herself, though she's finding herself addicted to the way he makes her feel important and alive.

She needs to be careful not to get in too deep with this. Time to cover up things like thoughts and feelings with humor.]

Though I'm not sure I'd mind even if it wasn't empty right now.

[kovach]

[ despite it being his room, it's her that does the leading, with her small fingers bearing a capable strength of their own, his own willingness allowing himself to easily be tugged along through the halls at her gesturing command.

for a man who's so vocal about wanting to be on his own, he dreads the loneliness as much as anyone, haunted by every lasting silence, every cold moment in an empty room, like he doesn't belong, like he should have disappeared in the ash with everyone else all those years ago. but clara has a way with not only giving him some much desired company, but in making him feel like more than just a ghost from some desolate past, welcomed by the tight hold of her fingers and the wide spark of her eyes.

when she turns and smiles at him, he can't help the uptick of his own lips, bearing a small smile of his own, hesitant if only because he knows he shouldn't be chasing it.

luckily, she's as quick to steer with a joke just as well as he can, coaxing him to scoff with a chuckle. ]

Oh, yeah? Didn't realize you were the audience type. We'll sell tickets next time. [ wit remains a reliable safety net. ]

[bossily]

[And of course he takes her attempt at making a joke and runs with it. She snorts in response, rolling her eyes.]

As long as we split the profits evenly.

[Why not keep the safety net up and keep things easy? Her fingers curl inward, giving his a squeeze. This kind of banter is quick and simple, essentially meaningless. It's just to fill the time meant walking from point A to point B, which isn't really all that far off.

Behind closed doors, she can drop her guard around him. It's something she only feels comfortable doing in private. Letting her walls down has only led to her getting hurt time and time again. Or it's led to the people she cares for getting killed. She's hesitant to let her guard drop completely, even though he inspires her to feel at ease in his company.

That thought makes her a little more serious, though she doesn't drop her dry wit completely. It'd just be uncomfortable if she did.]

There's plenty you don't know about me, though. If we can ever manage to get through a conversation with our clothes on, I owe you a story or two.

[kovach]

You know, I'm actually pretty capable of managing a decent conversation naked.

[ if their last encounter in his room is anything to go by. although, considering the way things had turned out, it's hard to say if that had actually really been a successful attempt.

still, he thinks about what he does know about her, how he'd considered her an easy read when they first met — all spunky energy and flirtatious banter — but with her return, there's been plenty more additions to the mystery, of what changes had brought that swell of beaming hope to something more shaken, uncertain, how he'd found her looking to him for some semblance of an answer right before they poured themselves into a different method of coping.

despite his joking response, he looks to her with a more honest gaze. ] I'd want to hear. [ his thumb gently skims against her knuckle. ] I'd want to know about you.

[bossily]

[She's not expecting that dip into sincere honesty. It takes her by surprise at first, and she smiles as she glances up at him. There's a choice to either keep joking or to let the act fall away. She's already let him past the walls she had built up. There's no harm in letting him in further.]

Okay.

[She agrees with a little nod of her head. There's also a hint of pink on her cheeks, a small blush as she realizes how easy it is for him to disarm her this way. Her eyes avert for a moment, just long enough to glance over at the doors they're passing to see how far away from his room they are.

Not far now. Just two more doors.]

I guess the most important thing I'll ever talk to you about are stars. I may be from Earth, but the stars are my home.

[kovach]

[ if it were anyone else, he might have worded it definitely, framed his curiosity as more of an offhand comment or steered his way for information by alternative means in manipulating the conversation. but he doesn't need to do that with her, like they've somehow gotten past those gateways without even realizing they have, only coming to terms with it now in his honest confession of wanting to know about her. ]

The stars, huh?

[ he smiles a little, like it's somewhat fitting for her. closing in on the room, he steps ahead so he can open it up for her, peering inside first to check if kirigan might have come back. finding it still empty, he gives a gesturing nod to invite her inside. ]

The doctor talked about traveling space and planets and, I'm guessing from the way you seemed pretty familiar with them, your history probably goes past this station. Travel together?

[bossily]

[She peeks to her left and to her right before slipping inside. It's not like she cares if anyone knows she's here, but it's all part of the fun to act like they're actually sneaking away somewhere.

But since they're discussing her favorite subject, the thing that she's most passionate about, it's probably a good thing no one but him can hear her. She's about to sound like a nerd.]

The Doctor and I -

[She hesitates, because it feels incredibly strange to be discussing the man she loves with someone that she has come to care for deeply in a short period of time. In a way, her connection to Takeshi feels very similar to how things had begun with Danny. Simple flirtations turned quickly to something more. Only now that she's older and wiser, she knows not to expect a happily ever after in this circumstance.

There aren't any happy endings for living dead girls.]

We've traveled together for years. We've been to planets across countless galaxies and dimensions, and I never seem to be able to get enough. You meet so many different people, and get wrapped up in trying to help them all. Course, that comes with plenty of trouble, but...well, I'm not ever gonna turn away when there's people out there that need help.

[She wraps her arms around herself at that admission, smiling half heartedly. Her desire to help Rigsy had cost her and the Doctor everything. She tries not to question herself on whether or not it was worth it.]

You'd think I would've learned to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground, but I'm not sure I can ever give up recklessly running into the unknown.

[kovach]

[ for a moment, he's amused at her play in treating this as a secret, not entirely sure if it's her intention to actually keep it as one (since, after all, there's not really a certainty to what this even is, though he doesn't really have the expectation of trying to make sense of it to be anything). but when he steps inside after her, he's instantly consumed with the look on her face, with the passion that she describes what seems to be a primary course in her life.

with the door shut, he steps across the room, listening to her speak, and sets upon his bed, his hand reaching back out for her, gently tugging her to coax her to sit at his side.

for a moment, he thinks of quell — i wanted to be an explorer. see other worlds with my own eyes, but ... one life isn't enough time to see the stars, so ... — not surprising since the memory had arisen when the doctor spoke of similar things, of exploration and travel of the universe. but there's something more in listening to clara describe it.

because everything she says clicks together, even without the specifics or details; the way she throws herself into it, evidence of that in the way he's witnessed her so willing from the moment he'd met her, ever curious and ever determined. plenty stubborn too, but considerate as the time she'd tended to his wounds without a second thought. bossy but with a good heart.

no wonder he likes her. ]

Well, since you're here, that's plenty of proof of that. [ of running into the unknown. he means in making the deal that's brought her to the station, but maybe he partly means his room too.

but he thinks back on her words, on when she'd just come back and he looks to her with a steadiness in his gaze. ] You said ... you stopped believing this was one big space fairytale adventure. [ his voice is quiet when he asks, almost hesitantly like he's not sure she'll even answer, ] What happened?