The Doctor stumbles along, the guard prodding him every now and then but it's more to keep him upright than anything else because if he doesn't keep that forward momentum, he's going to end up in a heap on the floor. At any rate, the Jaffa doesn't seem to think he'll be making a break for it, barking at Eva in those harsh guttural tones to stand back.
He opens the door and shoves her cell-mate inside. The Doctor that stumbles in is a shadow of the man he was several months ago - if he was skinny before, he's rail-thin now, dark circles under his eyes stark against the fact that he hasn't seen proper sunlight in who knows how long. His expression has a pulled, haunted expression, as if he's seen more of Sobek and his little "mercies" more than he cares to and it only reminds him that for all the good out in the universe, there's so many dark little ugly spot, growing by the day. The Doctor staggers, weaving as if he's drunk, and then decides that if he's at it he might as well aim for Eva because she's the only person he trusts to collapse at.
Well. That and she's literally the only person, period, in the cell to go collapsing/falling/etc at, but that's all technicalities.
The Doctor's still bleeding from the side, his hand clapped over the warm spot as he tries to revive enough to wrangle Eva. Eva. Cats. Both cats and humans need to be herded sometimes and if anything, they both make wonderful companions.
"Still alive?" He grunts at Eva, as if checking she's in one piece. She's amazingly resilient in that evolved-ape fashion of hers. He's impressed. It's something he's taken to asking whenever they're both in the cell together, and there's times where it seems as if he doesn't even realize he's still asking her after all these months imprisoned. "Good. Lovely. Have a job for you since you're up."
He wipes his mouth with his other hand, feeling his heart in his chest stuttering. The other one sits dead in his ribcage, useless, and considering Eva looks the picture of physical health, he thinks she can help him with his little problem. One heart attack away from regenerating on her and he'd rather not have to toss that inconvenience at the poor woman. Too much awkwardness and explanations. Explanations, especially. Once that's taken care of then he can really take a proper look at her, see how she is mentally because the clues he saw while she was standing there in the cell were alarming enough as it was. He needs her strong, sane -- mostly sane -- and he wants to know that trust he put in her from Day 1 isn't for nothing. The Doctor shifts his weight on the floor, trying to settle himself into a better position.
Re: Eleven and Eva
He opens the door and shoves her cell-mate inside. The Doctor that stumbles in is a shadow of the man he was several months ago - if he was skinny before, he's rail-thin now, dark circles under his eyes stark against the fact that he hasn't seen proper sunlight in who knows how long. His expression has a pulled, haunted expression, as if he's seen more of Sobek and his little "mercies" more than he cares to and it only reminds him that for all the good out in the universe, there's so many dark little ugly spot, growing by the day. The Doctor staggers, weaving as if he's drunk, and then decides that if he's at it he might as well aim for Eva because she's the only person he trusts to collapse at.
Well. That and she's literally the only person, period, in the cell to go collapsing/falling/etc at, but that's all technicalities.
The Doctor's still bleeding from the side, his hand clapped over the warm spot as he tries to revive enough to wrangle Eva. Eva. Cats. Both cats and humans need to be herded sometimes and if anything, they both make wonderful companions.
"Still alive?" He grunts at Eva, as if checking she's in one piece. She's amazingly resilient in that evolved-ape fashion of hers. He's impressed. It's something he's taken to asking whenever they're both in the cell together, and there's times where it seems as if he doesn't even realize he's still asking her after all these months imprisoned. "Good. Lovely. Have a job for you since you're up."
He wipes his mouth with his other hand, feeling his heart in his chest stuttering. The other one sits dead in his ribcage, useless, and considering Eva looks the picture of physical health, he thinks she can help him with his little problem. One heart attack away from regenerating on her and he'd rather not have to toss that inconvenience at the poor woman. Too much awkwardness and explanations. Explanations, especially. Once that's taken care of then he can really take a proper look at her, see how she is mentally because the clues he saw while she was standing there in the cell were alarming enough as it was. He needs her strong, sane -- mostly sane -- and he wants to know that trust he put in her from Day 1 isn't for nothing. The Doctor shifts his weight on the floor, trying to settle himself into a better position.