Author: QuakQuak
Summary: "How does it feel, Jane? Ancient worlds and endless galaxies, full of life and fire and glistening stars—billions across a vast sky. And loneliness...so much loneliness..."
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling
If the Doctor was ever in any doubt as to whether a scream originating in Northern Europe could be heard in China, it has was now been well and truly eliminated.
"...the FUCK?"
"Now, I know this looks pretty bad, but—"
"But what?"
"I can explain..."
"YOU'VE JUST BROUGHT MY SHED CRASHING DOWN! WITH THAT BIG BLUE...THING..."
"Police box," he chimes in.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS A POLICE BOX DOING IN MY GARDEN?"
All right, so, enraged blue-haired girls are not quite his thing, after all.
"You don't happen to know where we are, huh?"
She shoots him a glare. "I put the questions here."
The Doctor has the decency to look sheepish.
"Who are you?" the girl asks, eyes narrowed over a cup of tea she hesitates before giving him.
"The Doctor."
"I'm serious." Freak, she adds in her head.
He just grins goofily. "Who are you?"
Her eyes flash as the name rolls off her tongue. "Sinéad Ní Bhraonáin."
"Pleasure to meet you, Jane," he smiles, without missing a beat.
Well-read freak, then, she thinks, grinding her teeth and trying not to betray her astonishment at his use of the English equivalent of her name.
"Is this Wales, then?" he takes a guess, smug smirk tugging at his lips. "Or Ireland?"
"You can't not know where you are," Jane scoffs. "What happened, did you fall out of the sky or something?"
He is tempted to answer that in the affirmative. Instead, he points over to the oven.
"Are those kilted sausages I can smell? Absolutely starving..."
And Jane Brennan stares as the strange man who crash-landed in her garden minutes ago makes himself at home in her tiny kitchen, and she doesn't know if she should call the police or the loony bin.
Too short, I know, but give it a chance, if you like :) And a review, you know, if it's not too much trouble.
Thank you all for reading!
QuakQuak
