A Little Education, A Comfortable Seat and a Tale To Be ToldMature

The trio entered the teachers lounge. It was a fairly dim room with little natural light and a coffee maker on a desk in the rooms opposite corner. A large, old oak table dominated the room. It was accompanied by wine coloured chairs, obviously posing as expensive but in reality would be quite cheap copies of classical Victorian seating. 

It was the Doctor that spoke, he was looking at Abbie as he did so. He had sat down in the chair at the top of the table. "I remember when Victorian chairs were actually comfortable." He moved about in the seat, trying to find that one spot that would allow for minimal comfort. "But these," he pointed at the chairs around the room, "are a hell send. Even the colour is hideous, it was not even that shade back in the day, much brighter. History has distorted the reality of Victorian comfort and style, pity."  

The Doctor turned to look at Sam, who was still anxious upon going any further than the door.  She looked at the man again, sitting uncomfortably in the chair. Nothing, she could read nothing except the foreign dirt on his shoes. "Well then," he said, "Take a seat." He raised both hands, gesturing towards the general direction of the table.

Cautiously she approached the seat furthest from Mr Doctorius. She tried to read him again, nothing.  Her gaze wandered to his assistant, who was still yet to be introduced. 

As if he was reading her mind, he spoke up. "This is my assistant Abbie. She takes... Notes and... Stuff." 

Sam looked at her, inspecting her clothes, hair, eyes, expressions, hand movements, everything. She was very much human. She was running from trouble at home, the bitten finger nails and scratches on her hand told Sam this. Speaking to her like words in a well written book. 

Her hair was brushed back and curled at the ends, but not curled professionally. Which meant naturally. Which brought to the conclusion she liked looking good, but could not go to a stylist. Now why is that? Thought Sam. Of course. This woman called Abbie could not go to a stylist because both her and the man were on the run. But on the run from....

"And I am the Doctor. I don't take notes. Or stuff. I just... Travel a bit. Notice my tan?" He smiled.

Sams jaw was close to dropping. But remained calm. She could not bring herself to speak.

"I guess you didn't notice then... Well anyway, time to start educating." 

The young woman spoke up before he could. Her thoughts, once again, being beaten to the finishing line by her words. "You were at the crime scene yesterday weren't you? The one with the boy. I heard it from a friend."

The Doctor let a smirk creep across his face. "Why Ms Holmes, have I broken one of your laws?"

She stammered a little. "One... One of our laws?" She stood up energetically, pushing the chair back with her calves. "It sounds like you don't think you're human. And if you think that I think the Headmaster needs to know!" She stormed towards the door. 

The Doctor was out of his seat and beside the door before she even got halfway. He swiftly drew the sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the lock. It whizzed in the typical old fashion way it always does and almost like magic, the door was locked.

Sam went to speak when Abbie cut in. "Probably better off taking a seat honey. This next conversation," she looked at the Doctor, who was now leaning against the back of his chair, "is going to be.... Difficult for you to get first time around."

She glared at the Irish woman. "I am very smart for my age. Very, very smart. I am sure I can handle whatever he has to throw at me. The police work with me for a reason." 

The Doctor smiled at Sam. "I am sure you are an undeniably, extremely intelligent teenage prodigy which a most obscure interest in the dead, dying and other oddities. However, I can promise you that you have not looked across a room and seen a Saturnyn hand in hand with a Carrionite. In fact, I beg to ask the question if you even understand what I am talking about in any way, shape or foreign form." He looked wide eyed at her. Then he turned to Abbie. "It is definitely her. I was right."

Abbie glared back at him. "You mean you had doubt it was her?!" 

The Doctor smiled. "Oh... Well I wouldn't call it doubt. I would cal..." 

Sam was standing two feet from the Doctor now. "What do you mean I am her?!!"

The Gallefreyan jumped back. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it is rude to sneak up on someone?" 

"Did no one ever tell you it is rude to lock people in a room?" She was quick with her response. 

"Oh you go girlfriend." It was Abbie that spoke. Sam just blanked her. 

 "Take a seat, this conversation is going to blow your little human mind..." The Doctor pulled a chair out from the table and gestured to it.

The Doctor waited until she was seated. "You are going to need to stay seated for this, because by the time we are done here, you might even know who your father is."

The Doctor spun on his left foot and fell back into his chair, lifting his feet onto the oak table and spinning the sonic screwdriver in his hand. "Are you ready for your world to be rocked?..."

The End

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