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Aug. 20th, 2021 08:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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You've reached Dr. Funkenstein. Expert on all things funkadelic. Please, by all means, save us both the hassle and don't leave a message. | |
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post-fox & the hare mission, infirmary — ;
Date: 2022-07-20 03:23 am (UTC)So not only did word get around regarding his older self mixing up in the labour camp battles alongside actual, seasoned and trained soldiers (not to fight, thankfully, but being there at all seemed really rather silly of the daft old man), but the Doctor (this one) had seen it for himself when the dust had settled and they were called to the aftermath of purifying the waters. Hemming and hawing and wincing when he moved, it was quite a relief when they'd finally made it back to the station and sent the injured into the Infirmary for a quick, proper bandaging.
Which is where the Doctor will find himself lying in a bed, his eyes closed, those cross brows of his furrowed as though he's an old owl dreaming of some lecture he's got to teach, except all of his students have failed to turn in their essays and he's about ready to send them all packing. ]
Oy, me! Wakey-wakey, I made a broth!
[ And indeed, when the Doctor (the owl one) opens his eyes he'll find himself (bowtie and all) with a tray in his hands, a silver spoon and a bowl of hot, delicious-smelling soup sitting atop it.
There may also be some Jammy Dodgers (as requested from the supply drop!) on a plate beside it, but whether that's for the older Doctor or for him remains to be seen. ]