Not quite a yes. Maybe he would’ve felt better with a yes, because “I trust you” reminds him of all the times someone has said that to him and (not) lived to regret it. He only hopes this won’t be the case. That ultimately this is when everyone lives, not just the once. The Doctor nods as he takes in her breathing, that almost anxious…well, not a color to her mind but something else. Anxiety all the same.
He steps further into her mind. He doesn’t communicate exactly through words. Telepathy isn’t always like that and for his purposes, it’s best it isn’t; Eva instead gets impressions, pieces of ideas and plans, a few emotions, a few images and sights and smells and sounds. Together it suggests to her a general idea what he wants her to do. Not quite a spy. A spy involves having someone Sobek trusts and he’s only intrigued by Eva Salazar. Trust is another thing entirely. But he needs to know about the tech here, what they can use, what they can build. He doesn’t want to show her just how destructive jiggery-pokery and twiddling actually are, that the reality of it is so much different than shark-proofing a sonic screwdriver. That given the right wires you can burn planets and stop Time itself.
Help me help the others.
I’ll leave hints. Hunches. You’ll sort it out when we’re ready.
Thankfully he’s better at keeping himself bleeding into Eva compared to his clone. The selfish part of him rather likes the idea of Eva thinking he’s just that funny old Doctor, the alien she’d fought libraries with. Showing her the real him isn’t something he’s prepared to do, even with their lives at stake. Not yet, anyway. His psychic touch only lasts a few long seconds before he drops his hand from her cheek, breaking the link as they lose contact in the dark.
“Good! Trust, good thing, trust,” the Doctor says, as if there wasn’t a break in the conversation. He lets her recover from whatever disorientation she might feel.
Re: Jailhouse Blues: Eva and Eleven
He steps further into her mind. He doesn’t communicate exactly through words. Telepathy isn’t always like that and for his purposes, it’s best it isn’t; Eva instead gets impressions, pieces of ideas and plans, a few emotions, a few images and sights and smells and sounds. Together it suggests to her a general idea what he wants her to do. Not quite a spy. A spy involves having someone Sobek trusts and he’s only intrigued by Eva Salazar. Trust is another thing entirely. But he needs to know about the tech here, what they can use, what they can build. He doesn’t want to show her just how destructive jiggery-pokery and twiddling actually are, that the reality of it is so much different than shark-proofing a sonic screwdriver. That given the right wires you can burn planets and stop Time itself.
Help me help the others.
I’ll leave hints. Hunches. You’ll sort it out when we’re ready.
Thankfully he’s better at keeping himself bleeding into Eva compared to his clone. The selfish part of him rather likes the idea of Eva thinking he’s just that funny old Doctor, the alien she’d fought libraries with. Showing her the real him isn’t something he’s prepared to do, even with their lives at stake. Not yet, anyway. His psychic touch only lasts a few long seconds before he drops his hand from her cheek, breaking the link as they lose contact in the dark.
“Good! Trust, good thing, trust,” the Doctor says, as if there wasn’t a break in the conversation. He lets her recover from whatever disorientation she might feel.