It's the little moments that add up over time, that's life really, a collection of moments to call one's own before the journey's end.
The Right Instrument
The Doctor moved about the Tardis, choosing to be impatient took a practiced grace since all of time was switch-flip away. He had made peace with his new look, even the eyebrows, but the jitters came to him constantly. A need to be active even when he wasn't fleeing some intergalactic death trap required picking up a hobby. Sometimes it had been playing flute, cricket, and a compulsion to seek out every known fez in the universe, but perhaps things needed to get back to basics in this new cycle.
He decided these new hands could play an instrument.
Station 99 wasn't the only venue in the universe but it did have a fantastic collection at times. The Doctor walked about, his grey hair gleamed in the florescent light of an artificial sun while gravity generators allowed shoppers to walk around the massive globe with ease, though he mused that it made it a nightmare for parking. His Sonic Specs picked up all kinds of frequencies, a Judoon playing harmonica with its rhino-like lips, an Ice Warrior legion learning to play a drumline for upcoming battles, and a Zygone trying out multiple instruments at once using its shape-shifting talents. All his enemies in harmony, the Doctor wished the universe worked like that but it was hard to hear the music in war.
His hand grazed a stack and slight zing of cords made him stop. He turned around and recognized the beauty of it instantly, a crimson red electric guitar. A Clerk Drone floated down, they always come by when they think they got a sale.
Greetings, Sir or Madame, this is an archaic device found on the system called: The Earth. A rar—
"Don't call it 'The Earth', just Earth," The Doctor said as he moved his hands along the instrument. "They got enough of an ego already without making it official." He tried out each cord, getting a feel for how the notes radiated of the strings.
Sir or Madame, tampering of instrument without pay is pro—
"Yeah, yeah, it's forbidden, but that's half the fun of it, right?" the Doctor strummed a quick solo. "Besides, can't pay to play, no money."
The mechanical orbs lights turned from a benign green to burning red.
Removal of item from one hands will ensure Sir or Madame is not punished with extreme shocks, calculated age of vagrant promises lasting agony. Scans confirm item requires being plugged in to play, explain how it is being played.
"Well that's easy, you play it with class," the Doctor said, flicking the Sonic Specs to augment the instrument's frequency to have a loud current to use. "Besides, I'm planning on getting the money the old fashioned way. I play, they pay."
And the Doctor's fingers danced on the strings. He played rock versions of Mozart, Bowie, and even Gustav's 'the planets' just because Earth's constellation always could use a bit of recognition. They came over to hear the strange man with glasses play. Most of his enemies didn't know this face, assuming he had clocked out the regenerations at Trenzalore. It gave him a sense of peace, and the curious notion of seeing how the universe behaved when they thought he was dead on some level. He was happy to see the universe could get along just fine, and that his old foes were quite generous when given some hip tunes. The Doctor even managed to get a small band together, the best peace accords he'd ever seen or heard, which lasted about ten minutes. When the moment of bliss ended, he had more than enough to pay for his dear new friend with enough to spare as a 'tip'.
The Doctor left the store, guitar strapped to his back like a weapon of war, looking forward to playing many more little concerts around the Tardis.
Now this was a hobby that could occupy him for a bit.