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[The few days it's taken to adjust have been, well - Sam is not going to use the word 'Hell' because he's actually been, and this is crappy but it doesn't come close. Still, anyone who hasn't seen him yet might be a little alarmed at what's being broadcast: six feet and four inches of sickly sasquatch, valiantly trying to address the network, appallingly pale, sallow-faced and bloodshot-sunken-eyed.]
Hey. Uh - Sam. I'm new. I guess this is a, uh, a thing that, that people do. Is introduce themselves. And I get that - we're all looking for a way out.
[Auspicious beginnings. Who knows if anyone's even getting this? Nevertheless, he continues.]
Okay. So. No promises, but there's something I can try. Kinda like a ward, or a spell. [Magic exists, surprise. The few people he's already talked to have expressed a kind of varied interest in this sort of thing, so caution be damned.] Anyone wants to help, I'll need a couple things.
First is - salt. Table salt, any kind will do. Second? Matches, a lighter, anything that can make sparks, even for a few seconds. And then I'll need something to write with, marker, pen, spray paint - I don't care. Anything along those lines.
[He looks at something off-screen, mouth briefly twisting in what might best be categorized as 'disgust'.]
I have food to trade for it. Heard that's kind of a limited resource these days. Food and, uh. [He squints at something.] Neosporin. If anyone, y'know, needs that.
[Yeah, he doesn't get it either. He jerks off frame for a moment, face buried in his elbow. It's not enough to fully stifle the ragged, fierce coughs that leave his shoulders shuddering. Finally, signs of life trickle back through the feed, albeit muffled and with their subject mostly lurched off camera as he mutters in his more characteristic deadpan, wearily sardonic, 'so-done-with-this-shit' tone.]
Also. If anyone happens to have some aspirin on them, that'd be great.
[There's the rattling of trembling, uncoordinated fingertips trying to navigate the tablet, and the feed snaps off.]
Hey. Uh - Sam. I'm new. I guess this is a, uh, a thing that, that people do. Is introduce themselves. And I get that - we're all looking for a way out.
[Auspicious beginnings. Who knows if anyone's even getting this? Nevertheless, he continues.]
Okay. So. No promises, but there's something I can try. Kinda like a ward, or a spell. [Magic exists, surprise. The few people he's already talked to have expressed a kind of varied interest in this sort of thing, so caution be damned.] Anyone wants to help, I'll need a couple things.
First is - salt. Table salt, any kind will do. Second? Matches, a lighter, anything that can make sparks, even for a few seconds. And then I'll need something to write with, marker, pen, spray paint - I don't care. Anything along those lines.
[He looks at something off-screen, mouth briefly twisting in what might best be categorized as 'disgust'.]
I have food to trade for it. Heard that's kind of a limited resource these days. Food and, uh. [He squints at something.] Neosporin. If anyone, y'know, needs that.
[Yeah, he doesn't get it either. He jerks off frame for a moment, face buried in his elbow. It's not enough to fully stifle the ragged, fierce coughs that leave his shoulders shuddering. Finally, signs of life trickle back through the feed, albeit muffled and with their subject mostly lurched off camera as he mutters in his more characteristic deadpan, wearily sardonic, 'so-done-with-this-shit' tone.]
Also. If anyone happens to have some aspirin on them, that'd be great.
[There's the rattling of trembling, uncoordinated fingertips trying to navigate the tablet, and the feed snaps off.]
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[You know, normal everyday stuff.
He squints. His brain's still catching up with his ears.]
Uh. What doctor?
['Doctor' sounds like a good word right about now. So does 'painkiller' and 'aspirin' and anything following that general theme.]
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Ghosts don't like salt?
[Frowning. Isn't he supposed to be the one who's confused here? But the Doctor, the Doctor's something she can talk about. Even if she is trying not to think too hard about the fact she hasn't seen him in a few weeks now.]
Just The Doctor. I traveled with him.
[And that probably explained nothing.].
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[He blinks, head going to one side, marginally amused.]
Gee, can you vague that up some? 'Doctor' isn't all that descriptive a term, you realize that, right?
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Good to know.
[And her feelings about salt may be forever altered.]
Oh, but it is. [Completely failing at the whole mysterious thing.] That's his name, The Doctor.
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So what happens when he ends up in a doctor's office or something? Does everyone get on his case or what?
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[And how does she make that sound so serious and thoughtful.]
Doctor is the only name he needs. [She senses there's still some confusion here.] That's what he does. Helps people.
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['Help' as in 'slaughtering demons aplenty', or is it more of the 'let me handily cure this epidemic' variety, essentially.]
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He does a bit of everything, really. With aliens, mostly.
[It's okay to say that here, right? People knew about aliens. Some of them, anyway.]
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Uh-huh. [Furrowed brow. Okay. Juuuust give him a minute.] Aliens are a bit outta my purview. I'll stick to Earth. [His expression shifts, unsettled.] ...Assuming we're on Earth. [Because, really, who knows.]
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[Not entirely reassuring, he knows, but it's what he's been hearing through the proverbial grapevine.]
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[Sure, Jack had made a point once that he had a better chance of saving them from the outside. But in her experience, they all have a better chance of surviving when the Doctor's around.
In any case,]
He wasn't here long.
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I did mention aliens? [She knows that isn't exactly what he means, but it's the answer he gets.] We traveled around together, the Doctor and me, all of time and space. He's my best friend in the whole universe.
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Maybe he'll turn up? [It's not really a hopeful hope, but it's something. He doesn't know how the mechanics of this place work, not really.]