Oh if only he could. In one fast movement, he grabs her hand instead, pulling her against the TARDIS doors. “Now we can both talk shop without the neighbors being nosy. We wouldn’t want to let on, would we? Someone might sense you.” His smile is a sneer- he leans in close. “You’re arrogant. You’ve stretched yourself thin.”
The librarian pauses in her assessment, green-gold-brown eyes taking in the slumped, almost hunched stance of the man standing before her. “Fair enough,” she says, and begins to recount her day outside the stacks.
“That book- it’s something old Pasmo asked me to find- a First Edition Histories of Gallifrey, Unabridged. Can you guess where I found it?”
Oh please. Really now.
“Somewhere in the vicinity of His Lordship Rassilon? I heard he re-enacted Aristophanes’ Speech from Plato’s Symposium in the main passage. Something about a tower of books falling on his venerable head?”
“I was carrying too many, and took an opportunity. You know, to relieve myself of some small burden, and him of some of his. Leastwise, the rendition was something of a mockery, coming from that mouth. Your version was much better.”
“Don’t change the subject. I wasn’t talking about myself. We must blame the inevitable course of his actions. In any case, try asking for help. So you’re not a god after all. Just a college girl with aspirations.”
“Ah, what is it your little monkeys say? Pot, kettle?”
Her laugh rises in her throat at the sight of him.
Damn it. Why does he even bother anymore?