The guard outside the palace was spread thin, most units busy protecting the inhabitants from internal threats. Scaling down the rooftop and tumbling into a pile of hay that was much harder than it looked reminded the Doctor that he was not as young as he used to be. Even in this more youthful form, he could feel the trials of time on his ancient bones. His 10th regeneration. Bugger, he was getting old.

The courtyard was relatively quiet, save for the soft whispers that drifted from the windows above; fragments of private conversations. The Doctor was sorely reminded of a certain castle in Transylvania in which the courtyard was specifically designed as an amphitheatre, making those who walked its cobbled paths able to hear the words spoken in the rooms above. Never insult anyone with the words "the impaler" in their name, he mentally reminded himself.

He couldn't resist pulling out the E-Gauge again, just to have another go at pinning down the eerie feeling the walls of the palace gave him. The place didn't seem… right. Not exactly wrong; just… off, somehow.

The entire structure was new; for that moment in time, anyway. But the skeleton of the thing, running through the walls, through the floors… it pulsed with this sort of ancient energy that was too eternal for this country, even with all Britain's talk of everlasting glory. It was too old for the Earth. He shivered, rolling his shoulders in tight circles in the cold, open air of the coast.

The E-Gauge fizzled once again and the Doctor had to smile. Insanity, as defined by old Al Einstein, was "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

Brilliant, even the man with troll doll hair thought he was daft.

It was a short enough walk down the scaled hill that raised the palace's east wall, and he was into the streets of Brighton. He skipped a bit on the cobblestones, to erase the ominous silence that permeated the area like a cloak, and his thoughts drifted to Rose, still in the palace.

He hadn't exactly told her to stay put, which, if he had, would invariably assure him that she would NOT. They never, ever did. No matter how many time he'd proven that his word was to be trusted in matters of this sort, they would always ignore this instruction, to the point where he could effectively RELY on them disobeying it. Bloody humans, he thought with a smile.

In fact, he half-hoped she wouldn't stay put, if only out of a selfish wish to get this whole matter worked out and done with before his chance to meet with the Prince Regent. It was late. 10:59:52 pm, Greenwich Mean Time. 10:59:57, now. He paused, and a beat later, the chiming of the old clock that towered from the courthouse chimed eleven strokes. He couldn't help but smirk, though no one was around to see it.

The streets were vacant, the only source of light, the fully dilated moon and the familiar stars, the low angle of the former casting gangling shadows on the roads. And despite the fact that he'd faced down werewolves, dinosaurs, cybermen, daleks, autons, and ghosts, and he could hardly be counted among those afraid of a simple human mugger, he kept a hand in his pocket, his fingers wrapped securely around his sonic screwdriver. The maid's words: "better safe that sorry" came to mind.

An old woman stood, huddled, under a streetlight as he turned a corner, bundled in a dark grey shawl of heavy wool. She looked up at him as he approached, her eyes gleaming and eerie blue in the dark.

"Oh. Oh dear, young man?" he let go of the choke hold he'd had on the sonic screwdriver, nodding to the woman, "Could you please help me, young man? I was on my way home from my granddaughter's house, and it just gets so dark this time of year. My old eyes are absolutely useless in the dark. Blind as a bat, they say," the Doctor smiled and took the wrinkled, old hand she offered.

He had told Rose that he'd be back soon, but that was really just to make her think twice about trying to sneak a look around. He had been planning to spend the night in the TARDIS anyway. The truth was, he didn't fancy spending a night watching Rose Tyler's sleeping form in that big, empty bed. Well, strike that. He fancied it. He'd even done so, on occasion. Watched her sleep. But that was really just to make sure she was… still… breathing.

Right. He was never a very good liar. Not in this regeneration. He could barely fool himself; and he had no reason not to trust himself.

Well, it wouldn't have been right. Watching her sleep in that big, empty bed. Her single sleeper on the TARDIS hardly had room for two. But in that big, empty bed, he'd be too tempted to crawl close. To… better be assured that she was breathing. No. He would not spend the night with Rose Tyler. Sleeping or otherwise. That was something he'd decided a long time ago. He nodded to the old woman, shaking the thought out of his head.

"How do you do? I'm the Doctor."