As soon as he was given the all clear for his dinner break, Twelve left the offices he worked in. He hated his job and he hated the people he worked with so he couldn't wait to finish the internship.

His cane rolled on the ground as he swung it side to side while he walked. He was pretty independent walking around areas he knew well and Westminster was an area he knew well, even before the internship. He liked it around Westminster, there was always so much to see. Well, not so much see, but... yeah, see. He could still see in patches, but it was blurry like looking underwater.

He took his packed lunch with him and stopped in St James's Park. He liked St James's Park. There was just something about the atmosphere there. After checking it wasn't occupied, Twelve sat down on a bench and folded his cane, setting it down beside him on the bench. From his bag, he took out his sandwich and was about to eat it.

"Hey, Blind Kid."

It was the Scottish man, Malcolm Tucker.

"I have a name." Twelve said.

"That's right. You're the one with all the siblings." Malcolm sat down next to Twelve.

"Why are you-"

"I'm not a scary man, you know." Malcolm said. "I know my reputation. But I'm just a regular, normal man."

"Alright." Twelve said sceptically.

"I'm trying to help." Malcolm said.

"Who said I need your help?" Twelve said. "I don't need your help."

"Nobody can do anything on their own, kid, especially in politics." Malcolm said.

Twelve frowned. "I don't need yours or anyone else's pity because I'm blind-"

"This has fuck all to do with your disability." Malcolm said. "You're being used as the Culture Secretary's chew toy." He rustled a bag and peeled open the unmistakable sound of cardboard and plastic, a sandwich pack.

"Well... maybe a bit." Twelve said.

"A bit?" Malcolm snorted. "A lot, you mean." He bit into his sandwich.

"Malcolm..." Twelve sighed. Something felt weird, like he could trust this man. Like he almost knew him. "I don't think I want to be in the Civil Service anymore."

"No?" Malcolm asked-he was chewing his sandwich and swallowed. "So don't. You don't have to. You're an intern, you're under no obligation to return."

"I don't know what I want to do." Twelve admitted.

"You're twenty. You don't have to have your life all figured out yet. I know when I was twenty, I was in uni too. I would spend Friday nights and Saturday days cramming my work, finishing essays and doing chores, then Saturday nights, I'd spend getting wankered with my mates and having one night stands and it'd take until Sunday afternoon before I'd recover."

"I... I don't have one night stands."

"You're not a virgin are you?"

"No, I'm not a virgin." Twelve felt his cheeks flush.

"Come on, kid." Malcolm gently pushed Twelve. "I'm only teasing."

"I have a girlfriend. Her name's Missy."

"Ah good for you." Malcolm said. "I used to be married, if you can believe that. Yeah." He sighed wistfully. "She uh... she died. But I still wear the ring."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Twelve said.

"Don't be." Malcolm said. "It's not your place and I've had girlfriends since."

"So... what do I do with my life?" Twelve asked.

"Whatever you want, I'm not a fucking... careers advisor." Malcolm said. "Look, what are you studying in university?"

"PPE." Twelve said.

"Really?" Malcolm asked. He bit into his sandwich again.

"No." Twelve said with a shrug. "History. It's interesting. Especially the Industrial Revolution-So much happened during that time-"

"Do you like working down here?" Malcolm asked.

"Uh... I know my routine." Twelve said. "I don't have to change Tube lines or anything."

"Yes, but do you like it here, in Westminster?"

"Um... I suppose. It's really stressful though. But I can't say I haven't enjoyed it."

"You could always get into politics." Malcolm suggested. "Run for Council. Stand as an MP. Oh-be an advisor."

"But I'm blind-I can't be politician." Twelve protested.

"It's all the more reason for you to get into politics." Malcolm said. "And you think you'd be the first blind politician?" He finished his sandwich.

"I don't know-I saw how hard it was in the DCMS, coping with new developments and policies and things happening so fast I couldn't keep up. No blind or partially sighted person could. It's so hard."

"There's a whole fucking list of them on Wikipedia." Malcolm said. "Blind politicians."

"You just googled it." Twelve said.

"Course I did." Malcolm said. "Look, there's David Paterson, former governor of New York State. Then there's-actually I'll skip him. Oh Anita Lee Blair, the first blind woman elected to State Legislature in America. David Blunkett, Labour politician, former front bencher and Home Secretary in the early 2000s."

"Huh." Twelve said. He'd never considered before that a blind person could be a cabinet minister.

"There are others too. Loads even before assistive technology." Malcolm said. "And I bet there are blind councillors working their metaphorical tails off right now as we sit on this bench and speak. You can do it. Gordon Brown-man was PM!"

"Yeah, I remember." Twelve said.

"He's blind in one eye. I worked for the man."

Malcolm struggled to open a pack of crisps, the packet was crinkling and giving Twelve a headache. Eventually, the bag popped open and Malcolm took a crisp and put it in his mouth.

"Want one?" He asked, his mouth full of crisp. "Cheese and onion."

"Uh... no thanks." Twelve said.

Footsteps passed, which was pretty usual, they were right in St. James's Park. But what was unusual was that they stopped by the bench.

Twelve lowered his sunglasses to see blinding sunlight, blurry crowds and a figure of a besuited man.

"Malc." The man said. "It's time to go." This man was also Scottish. There seemed to be a lot of Scottish people working in Westminster.

"Yeah, just let me finish my crisps." Malcolm said.

"Now." The other man said. "Jeremy's planning that important thing because Boris Johnson is a useless fucking sack of cum. Who's this?"

"Jamie, this is Twelve. Twelve, this is Jamie." Malcolm said.

"That's an unusual name." Jamie said.

"It's a nickname." Twelve said.

"Okay, it's nice to meet you." Jamie said.

"Jamie, you're going to have to tell him you want to shake his hand, you can't just stick your hand out and expect him to shake it-he's fucking blind." Malcolm said.

"You didn't mention that." Jamie said.

"Thought with the fucking cane it would be obvious."

"Very funny." Jamie said sarcastically. "Let's get... fucking back to HQ."

"I should be getting back to the DCMS offices anyway." Twelve said.

"DCM-DCMS. Malcolm Alasdair Tucker, you're fucking hanging out eating lunch on a fucking park bench with a goddamn Tory?"

"Fuck no, he's a civil servant." Malcolm said. "And I don't think that there's fucking anywhere in the Civil Service Guidelines about being friends with politicians-not that we're fucking friends, Jamie, don't get that idea."

"He's your nephew or something? Elspeth's older brother?" Jamie asked. "Looks a lot like you,"

"It's his white hair, no doubt." Malcolm said.

"Kid's a fucking Weegie too." Jamie said.

"Uh... Weegie...?" Twelve asked as he stood up.

"Glaswegian. You're from Glasgow, yes? Gorbals, I assume?" Jamie said.

"Um... I was born in Glasgow. I don't really remember much. The accent stuck. But after my parents died, I went to live in Ruislip with my older brothers."

"Oh, my deepest condolences." Jamie said. He sounded sincere. "Malcolm never told me he had another dead sibling."

"This kid's not related to me."

"Bet you fifty pounds you're wrong."

"Shut up, Jamie." Malcolm said. "Or I'll fucking punch you so hard that you'll wake up in the middle of next week and find yourself in the fucking Outer Hebrides because I'll've fucking FedExed your useless cunting body over there."

"Just you fucking try it, mate. With your fucking one arm-all I'll have to do is hit you in the fucking collarbone and that'll fucking take you out for good. How about, while I'm there, I rip it the fuck out and have the broken ends sawn down into fucking chopsticks?"

"You do that and I'll rip your fucking bollocks off, stick them in my blender and force feed them to you in a tube like they have at fucking hospitals."

To Twelve's surprise, both Malcolm and Jamie started laughing. "What's... what's going on here?"

"Jamie and I, we're pals." Malcolm explained. "Been pals since the early nineties. I know you can't see, but... sometimes we... it's hard to explain, but we've known each other longer than you've been alive. It's just the territory that comes with being friends."

Twelve frowned slightly. "Oh right."

"C'mon, Malc." Jamie said. "Let's go. See ya, Numbers."

"Good luck with your quarter-life crisis, Twelve." Malcolm said.

Malcolm and Jamie walked away and while Twelve unfolded his cane, he could still hear them speaking.

"You're hanging out with blind toddlers now?"

"He's disabled and being fucking mistreated by the Tories-"

"There's a surprise."

"Boy's got enough enemies, he needs allies."

Eleven and River were in Greenwich. Since River had the afternoon off from her cinema job, they decided to go to the observatory and to see the Cutty Sark.

"You seem distracted, Sweetie." River said.

"No, I'm fine." Eleven insisted.

"I can tell you aren't." River said. "What's going on?"

"I was just thinking about... things."

"Twelve? Thirteen? Or Ten?" River asked.

"Three." Eleven replied.

River's eyes widened slightly. "Oh. Right. Wasn't expecting that answer."

"Ten and I, well we called Two about Three. And he sent us on a trail to find an unfindable woman named Rani Ushas-"

"I know that name." River said.

"How?" Eleven asked.

"I've done a lot of travelling, Sweetie." River said.

"And yet you've still never seen the Cutty Sark." Eleven said.

"Well, I have now." River shrugged. "So tell me," she asked, leaning against the railings, "why did Two send you to find this woman?"

"She has information about Three and Delgado." Eleven said.

"Was there some body that they buried out in the woods or something?" River asked.

"I don't know, but I'd love to find out." Eleven admitted. "But if any of my siblings were likely to kill someone, it'd be Twelve."

"I'd be the one most likely to kill someone between me and Amy." River said. "And I can definitely believe that about Twelve."

"So tell me how you know this Rani." Eleven said.

"Ah. That's complicated." River said. "But it all goes back to this girl I had sex with-"

"Rani?"

"I've had sex with people of all different genders, Eleven, but I've not had sex with this Rani."

"So what do you know?"

"This girl I had a one night stand with, she knew this Rani." River explained. "I'm still friends with this girl, I could send her a message on Facebook with some lyrics from Someone You Loved to butter her up if you want."

"No!" Eleven said. "I mean, no. No. Just don't butter her up."

River smirked and elbowed Eleven in the ribs. "Jealous fiancé?"

Eleven's cheeks flushed red. "Pfft. No."

River raised an eyebrow. "Of course you're not."

"Just ask this girl about this Rani." Eleven said, now deliberately avoiding eye contact.

"Of course, Sweetie." River said.

"It's really nice out here." Eleven said, changing the subject.

"It helps that it's a nice, warm summer day and we don't have to wear hoodies or coats." River said.

"It's not warm, it's hot." Eleven said. "Twenty three degrees is hot."

"We're still in our t-shirts." River said. "Although you're just in a short sleeved shirt."

"It's a t-shirt." Eleven argued.

"No, it's a shirt." River said, lightly tugging at the short sleeves. "That shirt and those braces, they make you look like an old man. It's not a bad thing. You're just different from everyone else our age."

"Two didn't like belts." Eleven explained. "He dressed me in braces."

River frowned slightly. "Yes, that makes a lot of sense. You get your dress sense from your older brothers."

"Twelve is just... he dresses however he wants. He wears a suit for work. But usually, he wears jeans, hoodies, t-shirts and Doc Martens. He just doesn't care. I wish I could be more like that." Eleven said.

"So go out and get some new clothes." River said.

"It's not that easy, I just don't have any money-"

"Then go to a charity shop." River shrugged. "I like extravagance sometimes and when I need it, I can get it from a charity shop. Macklemore didn't rap about them for no reason, you know."

"I don't listen to Macklemore. Or much popular music." Eleven admitted.

"No because you're a thousand years old and only listen to Greensleeves." River joked.

"Actually Greensleeves was written in the sixteenth century." Eleven said. "It is believed that Henry VIII wrote it for Anne Boleyn, but that's not true because it was written after his death. It isn't known who wrote it."

"That's interesting." River said.

"History is interesting. It's the story of how we got to here."

"Yes, I know how fascinating you find history."

Eleven shrugged and put his hands into his pockets. "You find it fascinating too. You're an archeology and history student. How did you not know that?"

"Because studying archaeology is different to studying the Dark Ages."

"Most historians argue that the Dark Ages ended around the time of the fifteenth century." Eleven said. "Also, historians don't like the use of the term 'the Dark Ages' because it implies that the Middle Ages were a backward time and consider it to be misleading."

"Like how the Stone Age is thought to be millions of years ago, but actually, it ended in the year four thousand BC. Though to be fair, the period did last for about three million years. But it's also much more recent than we think."

"I suppose." Eleven said. "I don't know much about archaeology. You're the archaeologist, after all."

"And I can tell you this right now, it's nothing like Indiana Jones." River said.

A/N:This chapter is nothing too exciting, just a bit of filler. But it's important filler.

Yes, all the blind politicians Malcolm named are real and 100% accurate. Gordon Brown is blind in one eye and needed his notes blown up in a bigger size, which would often frustrate him. And yeah, he was the a Prime Minister.

Malcolm's friends are starting to notice Twelve's resemblance to Malcolm.

I have been down to Greenwich and seen the Cutty Sark. Also at Greenwich is the observatory and the Meridian Line. I was far more fascinated with the Meridian Line than anything else.

Yes on the 21st of August it was 23°C in London.

Eleven is correct about Greensleeves. Its composer is commonly misattributed to him, but the real composer is anonymous.

And River is correct too; the Stone Age really did end roughly four to three thousand years ago. It was a surprisingly recent event.