Doctor Who: Coldheart

'Is all your life one long fantasy?' mused Compassion.

'What?'

'You and your role-playing,' she said, without a smile. 'Spies, sleuths, cowboys, space captains. You're always pretending you're someone you're not.'

'Compassion, it's rude to criticise your host's planetary tectonics. Brevus, take no notice of her. Compassion is always looking for trouble. I prefer to take things as they come.' Ignoring the derisive snorts from both his companions, the Doctor shifted his sharp gaze forward of the sandcarв's bows once again. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. 'Is that Baktan?'

They were skinny, they wore strange clothes, they had oddly coloured hair. That was about it. And the Doctor talked a lot.

The Doctor clapped him on the shoulder and helped him sit up.
'Good, good. As long as you haven't sprained your ankle. I'm afraid I'd have had to leave you here to die if you'd done that. I make it a rule nowadays: no one travels with me unless they have sturdy ankles.'

'No chance. Strong legs run in my family.'

The Doctor laughed.
'Really? Noses run in mine!'

'A suitable plan of campaign' repeated Fitz dully. The Doctor never planned anything: he lurched from danger to danger, surviving and putting things right as he went, usually on a purely ad hoc basis.

She hadn't come from a background that practised intuitive empathy. Didn't really understand it, if she was honest. But, then, neither did the Doctor - the Time Lords were a pretty hard bunch and the Doctor certainly didn't fit in with them. Perhaps he had absorbed his more sensitive feelings by some kind of mental osmosis after surrounding himself with human beings for hundreds of years. Or maybe he was just some kind of Gallifreyan freak.

'There''s something down in the deep caves beneath the ice mine' replied the Doctor. His voice, light but clipped, commanded everyone's attention.
Compassion secretly marvelled at his ability to talk apparent rubbish with a straight face.

Then he leapt up and grabbed Fitz by the shoulders with sudden laughter.
'Brilliant!' he yelled. 'Brilliant! Of course. Fitz, that's positively excellent. Well done!' A glow of pleasure enveloped Fitz, mixed with some relief that the Doctor hadn't kissed him in his sudden enthusiasm. Instead the Doctor snatched up his frock coat and headed for the door.

Compassion turned to address the Doctor, the only person she ever really felt worthy of calling intelligent. And that was stretching a point, sometimes.