Being in the TARDIS is like being submerged, waltzing about the ocean floor.
Bit gloomy, really; everything lit in a cyan glow, bouncing off of the console's coral shell, the copper walls and metal flooring.
Chewing on her lower lip, Rose leans back against the pebbled strut, her book forgotten in her lap. It's like it's… in mourning, a gloomy veil of blue overlaying everything. But… that's plain stupid, right? Daft idea.
Because it's a ship. A baffling, amazing, time-travelling one, yeah, but still a vehicle.
Yet it fits, don't it?
Like him, deep sorrow flickering beneath that snarky attitude.