#nsas

The Doctor, typically, was more concerned about finding his jacket than the fact someone might have been listening at the door. Despite Dickson's assurances that he would ask the staff in the morning and he was sure it would turn up, the Doctor was quiet. He walked the mile through the cold dark streets with his arms folded and a vanilla expression on his face. He said almost nothing. Rose offered to lend him her cloak, but he told her not to be daft. ‘I'm not cold. It's the principle.’ Bizarrely, he was also more upset about his jacket disappearing from the dining room than he had seemed at the loss of the TARDIS

I was opening my software to try to make some new series gif parallels with the expanded universe and got way too far before I remembered that the books, comics, and audios don't have anything I can gif.

He shrugged. ‘Never mind the piracy and the theft and the looting. Hamlek Glint didn’t value LIFE. That was his real crime. And I don’t want Jimm growing up with that attitude. For every blaster and laser-sabre and depleted trisilicate cannon shell I have in my collection, I remember the people it killed.’

Anyone looking up from the street below would see the Doctor's head and shoulders emerging from his window. His chin was resting in his hands, elbows on the wide sill. The eyes were ever alert, flicking to and fro, taking in every last detail. One might imagine, looking up and discovering him there, that the Doctor had been like this all night. Frozen like an icicle, staring out and thinking. And perhaps he had.