In my defense, something usually does present itself if I can manage to talk long enough.
[ after, of course, quite a bit of the.... torture. Contrary to popular belief, no, he does not actually enjoy that part. But dwelling on it wasn't going to do him much good. Especially when the clock was ticking. ]
Let's see... I had been doing some nosing around town, trying to see if I could get any hints to the distress signal and it's source. There was some sort of interference stopping me from getting anything more accurate than a two kilometer radius of the area. They caught me as I was coming out of the church yard, injected me with something before I realized what was happening.
[ He idly swipes a finger of dust, dirt, and ground stone from the floor and rubs it against his thumb, humming thoughtfully. ] There's no windows in the room I'm in. Likely an underground cellar. Dates somewhere in the mid 18th-- [ He tastes his finger, then frowns. ] No, sorry, 17th century. Or at least the lower levels does.
The easiest guess would be the church, but I'm not so sure about that. It seems too--
[ Whatever he was going to say is cut off abruptly, and John can possibly hear the sound of wood creaking and shifting just before the sound of cloth rustling as the Doctor quickly shoves his phone into one of his pockets. ]
Ah, there you are! I was beginning to worry. Keeping your messiah waiting here in this dank cellar? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.
[ If the cultists standing at the now open room were surprised in the least at his greeting, they were very good at hiding it. It was likely all the robes and hoods and the ominous, low toned chanting that was coming from somewhere down the corridor from his cell. ]
no subject
[ after, of course, quite a bit of the.... torture. Contrary to popular belief, no, he does not actually enjoy that part. But dwelling on it wasn't going to do him much good. Especially when the clock was ticking. ]
Let's see... I had been doing some nosing around town, trying to see if I could get any hints to the distress signal and it's source. There was some sort of interference stopping me from getting anything more accurate than a two kilometer radius of the area. They caught me as I was coming out of the church yard, injected me with something before I realized what was happening.
[ He idly swipes a finger of dust, dirt, and ground stone from the floor and rubs it against his thumb, humming thoughtfully. ] There's no windows in the room I'm in. Likely an underground cellar. Dates somewhere in the mid 18th-- [ He tastes his finger, then frowns. ] No, sorry, 17th century. Or at least the lower levels does.
The easiest guess would be the church, but I'm not so sure about that. It seems too--
[ Whatever he was going to say is cut off abruptly, and John can possibly hear the sound of wood creaking and shifting just before the sound of cloth rustling as the Doctor quickly shoves his phone into one of his pockets. ]
Ah, there you are! I was beginning to worry. Keeping your messiah waiting here in this dank cellar? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.
[ If the cultists standing at the now open room were surprised in the least at his greeting, they were very good at hiding it. It was likely all the robes and hoods and the ominous, low toned chanting that was coming from somewhere down the corridor from his cell. ]