Not at All Nosy
Characters: 11, Amy (Non-pairing)
Beta: None (I'm an American writing in a British Fandom...sorry:)
The Doctor was not a nosy Time Lord. His past regenerations weren't either. Curious…maybe or unreserved were probably better ways to put it. Never nosy. Of course 6 and 4…well, they were simply very determined and didn't know when to stop. However at this moment the Doctor has not and are not nosy…wait.
He was however quite bored.
It wasn't as if it were his fault of course, he roamed time and space boredom should not be an issue, unless there were companions of the human variety. Amy Pond was asleep. Something, which he admitted necessary, yet done by her far too much. The Doctor, not needing much sleep, would often fix the TARDIS' various maladies of roam the never-ending corridors. However, lately the TARDIS had been nagging at him to fix the Chameleon Circuit. The circuit had remained that way for over a century and there was no reason to fix it now. He happened to like the police box. Plus, it was great fun to watch people's faces as they walked in and out of it.
It's bigger on the inside!
Thinking about all of the reasons he was not nosy The Doctor pressed open the door to Amy's room. As it was mentioned earlier, the Doctor wasn't nosy, simply curious. Yes, the adventurer traveling into the unknown, undiscovered country as the snoring beast lay down her guard.
With the exception of Amy's soft sighs, the room was distinctly quiet. From the looks of it she was most likely not the best of roommates. Clothes and old photos along with various dishes, flung every which way. Books, (his books) stacked or unceremoniously tossed in a corner.
Simply a mess.
Standing awkwardly, 11 quietly slipped off his jacket not knowing where to start. Seeing a light emanating from the slightly ajar door to the bathroom, he carefully maneuvered his way on tip-toe into the next room.
The bathroom was just as messy if not more so than the other room. Stepping cautiously onto the off-white floor tiles, he began to feel more then slightly awkward at the sight of his striking face in more than a few of the many mirrors. However, he had to admit that they gave him a lovely view of…himself.
Radiating from a rather large vanity on the other end of the room, came the source of the light. Striding slowly over to the vanity, he observed the contents on top, but not without a few raised eyebrows. He found several different powders and potions, all fitting under the category of 'make-up'. Meaning to compensate, to make good, the manner of being put together. Amy didn't need any of this; she used much of it to be sure, but all of this…especially worn all at once seem an unrealistic feat, there was far too much. The Doctor would simply have to "investigate" further.
His hands began to roam over all the different products. He reminded himself that5 he wasn't nosy, simply protective. He was sure Amy knew how to take care of herself; however, it was his duty to ensure the safety and well-being of all companions.
Beginning from the right side, he found and began to open seven different types of a product identified as concealer. This slight detail both amused and bewildered the Doctor.
What would she possibly need to be concealing?
And so it continued for several minutes. Blush; was she having problems blushing? Eye-liner; what did that even mean?
Noticing a light multi-colored box in the drawer below, he tentatively reached down and grabbed the individually wrapped something from the already opened box. Not at all his fault that she wasn't more careful with her things.
Inside he found a tube-like…thing. Actually, he wasn't at all sure if he knew what this was. He had seen similar effects belonging to other companions. The name of such being a tampon. He had often seen Sarah-Jane, Teagan, and rose with the same. Yet, whenever he had curiously asked, the only answer ever received was that of a cold look and a stolen tampon.
His brightening eyes searched the tube inquisitively. On one end he found it to be retractable. With a surprised gasp, he pushed it in and began to spring it several times with delight until a string of cotton began to poke through. Cotton balls in a tube. How utterly useless. He had been all over the universe and never once had he been in a situation where a cotton ball could have remotely been useful. Yet it seemed so vitally important that women always have them. Whenever he tried to sneak a peek at them after they had been used the tampon appeared to have terrible and unspeakable things done to it. A compelling and possibly dangerous mystery…that would have to be saved for a later date as the doctor's eyes had wandered to the eccentrically diverse color spectrum in front of him.
Hesitantly, he looked at the containers to find them all to be an assortment of …lips. Lip-stick, lip-liner, lip-liner, lip-balm, lip-gloss, lip—what on earth would she ever need all these lips for? They all appeared to serve a similar purpose, but the dissimilarity of all the colors befuddled his mind even more so.
These colors were mostly along the red spectrum, form the lightest of pinks to the darkest of violets. Along with a extraordinarily eccentric names for such simple colors. Velvet Burgundy, Perfectly Purple, Dusted Rose, Cotton-Candy Pink—Cotton-Candy? With wide eyes, he carefully opened the cap of the lip…balm. Peering down the capsule he found that it didn't look like cotton-candy, but some jellie-babies didn't look like jellie-babies, he wasn't in any position to judge.
Sticking out his tongue, he applied a thick layer on top, and slid it downwards. He swallowed and recoiled. Making a soft yelp, he clicked his tongue to farther taste it. He then stuck his out in disgust. Far too starchy, not at all like soft, sweet treat.
Setting down the capsule, he continued to look through various lips. Plum, Principia…wait.
Principia? That isn't a color!
You can't simply make up your own name to a color. That doesn't help anyone, told him absolutely nothing about the mysterious paint.
Rubbing the tubed-substance onto the back of his hand, he found that he could still not precisely decipher the mysterious color. Choosing a color at random he applied he a liberal amount next to the previous streak to compare. However, he found that they looked exactly the same.
Frustrated, he jumped up and with a determined and defined hand he slowly began to slide the stick across his upper lip.
Suddenly a muffled shriek sounded from behind him; causing an immediate abandonment of the case. The Doctor glanced up and found, to his distress, wide green eyes staring back into his own. The source of the sound, a disheveled Amelia Pond.
Frozen he continued to stare at her reflection in the mirror, waiting for her anger to rise. Her lips, however, twitched furiously as she verbalized her thoughts in a very Scottish accent. "Well, doctor! I am surprised at your sudden change of heart in the fashion world, though I don't think we should start make-up until after we get rid of the bow-tie…besides the lipstick really isn't your color," she mocked before capriciously giggling.
The Doctor setting down the lipstick, stood up very tall, and with as much dignity as could be saved he mustered out a a barely coherent, "Bow-Ties. ..Are cool"
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