The human sounds out of sorts. Maybe more than out of sorts - very out of sorts, as in before downright terrible and a bit past horrid. Probably due to trying to gnaw on the bars and then what Sobek did to her – or at least what he saw the Crocodile God do to her, before he was shot in the face, which leaves an unknown amount of time accounted for. Normally he’s good with Time. These days, not so much, not with his senses dulled post-Stacy. The Doctor has no idea how long Eva was alone with that parasite. The Doctor’s mouth quirks up in a humorless smile he sincerely hopes Eva can’t see in the dark with her feeble human eyes.
There’s something to be said about poor eyesight.
“Well, you’re very…distinctive,” he says with a grunt as he feels her hand on his. He squeezes, listening to those Eva rasps, the tone of her voice. That’s his human. “Okay. Now, plans. Plan-looking things! Could you lean forward, please?”
He tries to listen for her shifting, tilting his head up to follow the movement as his own eyesight starts to recover. He might have a plan. Not quite a Plan with a capital P, but a plan which isn’t as impressive but could be still something to write home about given enough time and love. The only thing is talking about it aloud isn’t going to be much use, what with who knows how many guards outside listening and he’s not even sure how long Eva will remain free. If there are more of these parasites hanging about the temple. He can’t do this with just words alone. The Doctor’s hand ghosts up and touches Eva on her cheek, surprisingly light and gentle despite how she’s seen him trip about the place. His eyes focus on her.
“Eva, I need a yes or a no.” The Doctor’s voice is almost conversational. For a moment she can feel a brief touch against her mind, like a whisper, a question in her ear. If they’re going to upgrade a plan to a Plan, he’ll need her full cooperation because he doesn’t think he can pull this off on his own.
Re: Jailhouse Blues: Eva and Eleven
There’s something to be said about poor eyesight.
“Well, you’re very…distinctive,” he says with a grunt as he feels her hand on his. He squeezes, listening to those Eva rasps, the tone of her voice. That’s his human. “Okay. Now, plans. Plan-looking things! Could you lean forward, please?”
He tries to listen for her shifting, tilting his head up to follow the movement as his own eyesight starts to recover. He might have a plan. Not quite a Plan with a capital P, but a plan which isn’t as impressive but could be still something to write home about given enough time and love. The only thing is talking about it aloud isn’t going to be much use, what with who knows how many guards outside listening and he’s not even sure how long Eva will remain free. If there are more of these parasites hanging about the temple. He can’t do this with just words alone. The Doctor’s hand ghosts up and touches Eva on her cheek, surprisingly light and gentle despite how she’s seen him trip about the place. His eyes focus on her.
“Eva, I need a yes or a no.” The Doctor’s voice is almost conversational. For a moment she can feel a brief touch against her mind, like a whisper, a question in her ear. If they’re going to upgrade a plan to a Plan, he’ll need her full cooperation because he doesn’t think he can pull this off on his own.