![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The first time you meet the Doctor (not the first, it will never be the first, not for him, and not for you, really, even if you were only a baby) you are standing in the storage rooms of the British Museum, and something that you are sure was labelled ‘Statue, 2500 B.C., Dardanelles’ has just broken through its box, and tried to eat your supervisor.
You’re standing next to the fire extinguisher. You pick it up, and spray it, which does nothing, then throw the empty can at the monster, which drops your supervisor, and-- ohshitohshitohshit-- turns towards you, looking faintly quizzical.
You pick up a bottle of preservation chemicals, and throw it at it. It arches back, roaring-- and then a man is at your elbow saying “Hello, I’m the Doctor. Run for your life.”
And you run.
You’re standing next to the fire extinguisher. You pick it up, and spray it, which does nothing, then throw the empty can at the monster, which drops your supervisor, and-- ohshitohshitohshit-- turns towards you, looking faintly quizzical.
You pick up a bottle of preservation chemicals, and throw it at it. It arches back, roaring-- and then a man is at your elbow saying “Hello, I’m the Doctor. Run for your life.”
And you run.
