for galeforcehero and <lj site="livejournal.com" user="willrevile

[rude_not_ginger]

Right, so the Doctor was becoming increasingly aware of how very bad he was at steering. Or, at least, how very bad the TARDIS was at listening to his steering directions. He did say he wanted to go to Corsicroz Minor, but, instead, he found they had landed somewhere else.

"It's Saturday, at least," he said, pulling on his coat. He glanced at the screen on the console, then tossed the coat aside. "Temperature's at a lovely 40 degrees---um, that's around 98 degrees for you two---and the radiation's good, atmosphere's good. Should be quite nice out."

He looked over to his companions, trying for a 'this is an improvement' grin. He was looking forward to Corsicroz, but, really, a new and exciting place? So much better.

Comments

[willrevile.livejournal.com]

"Ninety-eight degrees and you want your jacket?" Jim stretches his arms above his head and scrunches his face up, though he doesn't yawn. It'll be nice to wander around somewhere, not that the TARDIS isn't endlessly exciting. You know, with its toasters and its phones and its endless bickering. (Somehow, he's getting used to the Doctor. Almost fond... in a way.)

All the same, he keeps his own jacket, which is probably even hotter, being leather. You just never know, do you? He doesn't look a damn thing like a Starfleet officer, but he figures that's fine. He isn't Captain Kirk out here, just some guy tagging along with an alien nutjob. At least it's entertaining. He looks over at Dorothy, eyebrows raised. "After you."