Rebel Doctor Part IX

[nevermoreraven]

Rebel Doctor, Regeneration Episode
Fandom: Doctor Who (AU with Alternate Doctor)
Rating: ...PG?
DISCLAIMER: BWHAHAHAHAHA I OWN A POCKETWATCH.  I've noticed I have it, though, so I'm pretty sure it doesn't have a perception filter on it or anything.  And I keep opening it, and nothing happens, so...I'm going to guess I'm not a Time Lady, and don't own the BBC.  :(
Note: I don't actually have that much beyond this point done, so I probably will take a break from uploading Rebel Doctor and do something else.
Note #2: Does the lack of indentations bother anyone?  It doesn't bother me, but it doesn't carry over when I copy paste from Word.  I'd have to use a couple spaces to get the same effect.  I can go fix them if anyone wants though.  Ease of reading is important!  I don't want to go through all the trouble if it won't bother anyone though.

The shop owner was staring at the two of them, unsure whether to blow his top or be completely confused.  The Doctor didn’t help matters.
“So sorry,” he muttered again, and handed the man a few shavings of a strange metal.  Some very expensive type of currency, the back of his mind noted, but it wouldn’t give him the details of where it was actually accepted.  “I hope that covers damages,” he continued, giving a winning smile and gently leading the pretty girl—witness, his mind amended—by the elbow, away from the scene.  The bald man settled for staring with an outstretched hand.
“That must have hurt.  I really am very sorry.  But I do want to help, and for that I need answers.”  He tried to pour every earnest ounce of his body he had into his voice.
“What makes you think I have any?” she growled back, angry.  Both of them ignored the looks people in hovercraft and other transportation staring at them.
“You were at the…thing.  The scene.  And I’m new here.  You probably know if this has happened before, back story and stuff.”  He gave another winning smile.  He’d smiled more today than he probably had for weeks.  Must be this Doctor lark.
The girl shook her head, staring at the kid, barely her own age.  "Come on, hello!  You're not an adult.  You're my age.  You don't know what's going on, you couldn't help me and wouldn't even believe me if you did, and..." she swallowed, not sure how he'd react to the last, but needing to get it out, "...you're a bad boy.  Frankly, you couldn't help someone if you tried."
He blinked, and asked mildly, "You done?"
Shakily, she nodded, scared.  If he was reacting this calmly, he probably had lost his temper and was about to do something truly horrible to her.
The boy smiled, actually somewhat amused, she thought.  She backed away a little bit.
"Okay, first things first.  You're right about...erm.  You're right on..." he started counting on his fingers, muttering to himself in a foreign language.  "Three..." he thought for a second, then shrugged to himself. "...and a half counts."
"You can't get three and a half!"  She was staring at him as if he were absolutely barmy.
"Yes, you can..." he corrected, still in that mild tone.  "You're half right.  On one of them, I mean.  I'm sorta a bad boy, I guess.  I mean, things like that are more a matter of perspective than anything, and one person may say something completely different from another..."  His voice had trailed off, until at the end she was just barely catching what he was saying. Suddenly, his eyes met hers, becoming serious.  A new element had entered the equation, but she wasn't entirely sure what it was or what had brought it about.  In the blink of an eye he'd turned from a punk, a gangster, a kid pretending to be tough, to a MAN, someone she'd absolutely positively 100% trust with her life.  The switch, the fact that he could pull off this change, every personality he seemed to possess…could he be faking it?  Or was he insane?  "But you tell me what's going on, and I promise I'll try to help.  I'm pretty handy with this sort of thing, well, I think I am.  We'll have to test that out I suppose."
She made one last attempt to get rid of this mesmerizing, desperately (criminally?) attractive, dangerous bloke.  "I doubt you'd try to help, once you heard what it was about."
"I made my promise.  I will try to help, and I'll make another promise...I'm on a roll today!" he remarked, pleased.  "I promise I will believe you.  No matter how strange you think it sounds, you'll just have to believe me that I've seen a lot of strange stuff in a short space of time, and if I wasn't a walking oddity myself, I'm in a believin mood."  He smiled at her, a smile that brightened even his darkest clouds, and in that second, her resolution was lost, and she began pouring her heart out to a stranger.
"Well, it all began when my gran began..."  And he interrupted her.
“Um, sorry, this may sound like a stupid question, but...what year is it?”  She looked him up and down.  Blonde hair spiked, black leather trenchcoat, t-shirt with some slogan she didn't recognize, watch, jeans, bare feet.  Looked like a nutter, sure.
She settled for an obvious question.  “Are you an idiot?”
He waved his hand, as if the truth or lack thereof in her assumptions didn't matter.  “I’ve been out of circulation for a while.  Now, what year is it?”
Maybe he'd go away faster if she answered his questions.  He'd turned from that man she'd trust to a creep again, but she wasn't running like she really should.  Why?  “2114.”
He closed his eyes, appearing to concentrate, as if he was already putting together facts.  “Fine, thanks.  Very helpful.”  The words came out almost as an afterthought.
She glared at him.  “You’re helping me, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to be sarcastic.”
“I’m not being sarcastic!”  His eyes flew open, and he looked almost hurt by that assumption.
She rolled her eyes.  "Anyway, my gran..."