The Control Room was quiet, cozy, and filled with a distinctive warmth exclusive to only one singular type-40 TARDIS, and that was The Doctor's. Currently floating with its weight sensors set to 'lazy mode' as The Doctor called them, the Police Box was floating absentmindedly through Mutter's Spiral. As one would float ambiently through a pool of water, The Police Box drifted through nebulas and cosmos. Inside, The Console Room had undergone a minor redecoration, as had The Doctor as well. Favoring something a tad bit cozier, The Doctor had shifted the preset to a flavor of Control Room used only briefly by his THIRD incarnation during the Anti-Matter Omega Crisis.
       When his exile had been lifted, his Third Incarnation had shifted the preset to something more... smaller, more reminiscent of the mid-twentieth century. However, having REGENERATED not too long ago, this new Incarnation of The Doctor was rehashing trends and life choices he'd felt hadn't gotten all that much love. This Control Room and its exterior were some of them. Another was a Sonic Screwdriver that had been destroyed during his Fifth Incarnation's run. A cylindrical silver piece with a red bullet at the top and a white strip painted in the middle. Currently, he was using The Sonic Screwdriver to reconnect circuits underneath The Console.
       Standing upright and tapping The Screwdriver into the palm of his hand, The Doctor twisted a switch on the console to activate the monitor. He took a look at his face once more. It was the face of someone in their mid-thirties, at most. Sharp blue eyes, narrow brows, a sharp chin, a seemingly perplexed facial expression- but the most puzzling part of it all was The Silver Hair. It seemed as if this incarnation couldn't decide on whether or not he wanted to be young or old- so he decided on some even middle ground, "Well... It's like I always say- a new house." He mumbles to himself before biting softly on the end of his index finger. That's when a sudden ping caught his attention- but he quickly rolled his eyes at the receiver's end. "A direct transmission from Gallifrey? What could they possibly want me to do now?" He examined.
       "Ah, From the president- no less... This must be of the highest authority if it's coming from President-" He looked down to read, but had to re-squint once or twice to make sure he was reading it quickly. He snapped, a hand softly hitting the console before he let out a shout of pride and excitement, "Ha! Oh, you wonderful Old Bat! You did it, truly- you did it... How did you manage that?" He had to really think, stroking his chin. Had he forgotten about Romana? The last time he saw her- well- there were multiple accounts- perhaps Regeneration had made his mind fuzzy.
       "Well! I might as well go congratulate The Madam President! She is, after all, succeeding the best president." He chuckles softly before setting the Navcom Controls toward the transmission's source- The President's Office! A soft groaning and wheezing let The Doctor know that he was traveling through the vortex as he walked toward a coat rack. Grabbing some white trainers, a navy blue coat, and a familiar multi-colored scarf, The Doctor completed his look: White Dress Shirt, Tan Waistcoat, brown cravat, Blue Coat, tan cargo pants, and White Trainers- before finally he slid on a familiar scarf and grabbed a tan fedora with a blue ribbon- sliding it all on to complete one... strange look.
       In the President's office, The Police Box materialized- and a head popped out, only to be greeted by a plethora of Timelord Stasers. "...Er, Pardon the Intrusion- I promise I have an invite." He chuckled softly, having condensed Romana's invite onto his Psychic Paper, which he held out for the guards.
