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How can you know for sure?

[ The Doctor seems down, he just spent part of his day giving horrible news to the nana of one companion. He takes in a deep breath, and he sighs. ]

Everyone has a different view on life; we all have different experiences that help with how we see things. [ He offers Peter a small smile, sure he doesn't know the kid but he sees no harm in having a little chat. ]

How...so?

[R's slouching forward, curious]

Yeah, I guess so. [ There's a pause, and his brow wrinkles. Peter's not exactly the world's most sensitive person, but... ] Hey, you okay?

[ The Doctor is standing there with his hands resting on the handle of his umbrella. He tilts his head to take in the rather peculiar looking kid with a curious look on his face.

He tries to find a good way to explain his rather loud musing, and mhms. ] We're two unique individuals, so it is logical that we would see the world differently. We have had different experiences that molded us into the people we are today.

[ The Doctor perks himself up, looks around, and follows suit with a smile. ] Oh! I'm fine! Oh, I was just having a rather loud musing!

[He's having a little trouble following just who he's talking about. In his defense, he's a zombie. Plus there's no such thing as Time Lords in the post-apocalypse]

Different is...good. [R pauses, frustrated at his groaning] Change. Healthy?

[ Pete finds himself smiling back. It seems like it'd just be intrinsically hard not to be at ease around this guy. ] Yeah, I do that sometimes too. Cool cane.

Of course it is. Don't be stupid.

That it is! [ The Doctor's mood perks up, and this is despite the post-apocalyptic mess he found himself in. He mhms again. ] Change is indeed very healthy, and one wouldn't want to find themselves stuck in a rut.

[ He calmly says, with a thick roll of the r in rut. Rocking back on his feet, The Doctor takes the kid in again, and he smiles. ]

I do say I rather like your look. I landed myself in a film studio lot didn't I?

Course it is! And, I'm not being dumb, it's just, just... Oh! It's hard finding those who are not me to understand where I'm coming from. [ The Doctor lowers his head, and the tone of his voice. ] Just like, I do try to understand them.

I suppose so. So many people, content to live their little lives, never looking up. The question is--[And she pauses for effect. She's gotten good at that.] Where are you coming from?

[ The Doctor snorts, picking up his umbrella and opening it. ] It is not a cane, but I do appreciate the compliment on it being... [ He gives his umbrella a twirl to show it off, and eventually closes it before resting it against his shoulder. ] Cool.

Such is life for the most of the universe, alas. Of course, there are a fair share of movers and shakers. [ The Doctor quirks an eyebrow, and leans forward to intensely stare at Themis. ]

And, just who are you? [ The whens and where of his life, he's not about to dish out on a whim. ]

[There's something weird about how this man speaks: he speaks so far that R's left breathless and, at the same time, he likes how he talks. How he rolls the sounds in his mouth, how he enunciates his syllables; talks more than he has to. It's very...extinct. People usually don't waste their breath like that.

Color R intrigued. He leans forward to stare at the Doctor, the hat tipped at a slight angle, the umbrella that doesn't' look like it's ever killed a zombie before]

Like...look? [Now R's just confused. Like seriously. Who thinks corpse-grey is a fashion statement?] Film...? I don't...guh-get.

[Although he can agree that being stuck sucks. It doesn't matter if you're alive or dead, it just sucks]

[She shrugs.] It's still small. An event happens, timelines ripple out. Not everybody only lives with the one consequence or path. Some have to deal with more. Or everything.

[The Doctor's staring bothers even her. Rassilon, he's good at that.]

Themis. I'm a soldier. Maybe. Sometimes. Don't want to be.

Yes, that is quite true, even if the universe at large seems far larger than it truly does appear to be. [ The Doctor figures now is a good point to bring any efforts at small talk to an end.

When she introduces herself as a soldier, The Doctor continues to stare at her long and hard. ]

A soldier who speaks in riddles, I see. Go on now, who is it whom you take your orders from.

Multiverse. [It's a gentle correction, but an important one. Semantics are vital on Gallifrey, as they are when their children interact with the rest of the universe.

She stands up a little bit straighter when he asks her, direct.]

When I take orders, [Emphasizing that she doesn't always do so] I report to the Time Lords.

[ The Doctor is no stranger when it comes to the Multiverse, and he has taken possible interest in exploring it a bit more thoroughly. And, never mind that for now, as he finds Themis herself to be far more intriguing.

The Doctor tilts his head to the side when she brings up the Time Lords, and grumbles a bit to himself. ] Aaaah, so you work for the Time Lords. It has been sometime since I've been home, I suppose...

That is if you have orders from the High Council to bring me back to Gallifrey.

[There's a small smile that tugs at the corner of Themis' mouth. She wasn't sure if this was, in fact, the Doctor. Her memory banks are...temperamental.

She shakes her head.] No. The Time Lords don't know I'm here. Or they don't care, which is extremely unlikely. I'm breaking at least three of their major Laws of Time, finding you like this.

[ The Doctor takes this as a chance to get an even better look at R, and there is no reason to ruin a perfectly good conversation. ]

Of course! I must have found myself in Hollywood! [ The Doctor is very sure this isn't helping with R's confusion. ]

I mean, look at you, that make-up is very convincing! If they were going for the living dead chic, I say they hit it right on the mark with you.

[There's something about the Doctor's look that makes R nervous. Like not super nervous. He's not capable of that anymore, no spikes of emotion. But there's a little hill of general anxiety, as if the Doctor can look into his dead man's eyes and see all the people he's killed.

R drops his eyes guilty]

On...mark. [R's trying to (badly) steer the subject away from him] What's...Holly-wood...like?

I wouldn't count on them not knowing you're here, they always seem to thrust their noses into my business when I least want them to. [ The Doctor mutters under his breath, he isn't exactly sure he can trust her.

While he knows Romana is running things back on Gallifrey, but he didn't exactly trust those who were in power with her. There is no smile on his face, and he just keeps a fixed stare on her instead. ] Now what do you call yourself?

I'm sure you're well aware of who I am by now, The Time Lords always come calling for me when they've gotten themselves into a bit of trouble they can't fix.

You have it easy. [She was created for battle, for any mission in their wars that the Time Lords need. Her circuitry is programmed to be unable to disobey orders from the War King. She's allowed some occasional levity and freedom. Occasionally.

She curls her legs up underneath her, crossing them neatly. Her position otherwise doesn't change, and Themis hovers neatly, keeping her eye contact. She doesn't blink much.]

I call myself Themis. I am a Type One-Zero-Three TT Capsule. I am from eons in Gallifrey's future, and I need your help.

I'd like to believe that statement was true. [ The Doctor's life never is an easy one, the Time Lords may have left him be for now, but for how long will he be able to roam free without any interruption.

He still remains standing, hands clasping the handle of the umbrella, and he mhms when she tells him not only who she is, but what she is. ] A TARDIS in a body of flesh, ah!

[ The Doctor finds this to be fascinating, and he leans in closer. ] And, what is it you need help with? And, yes, I am The Doctor. Gallifrey's most loved and hated renegade, and that depends on just whom you might ask.

Comparatively speaking. Some have it easier. [Much, much easier. A plant, for instance, is rarely menace and bothered by the High Council.

Her lips quirk into a smile, one that doesn't reach her eyes. It's the simple pleasure of being recognized, and the unmentioned interest and respect contained in the Doctor's 'ah.']

Gallifrey is at War. I dare not speak the name of our Enemy, but that's neither here nor there. I have been tasked to spy on an outside entity and, if necessary, ensure that they will not enter the battle.

You don't know? Aaah, I've been there all but once or twice myself, it is how one would like to say... [ The Doctor bites on the distraction, and with a wave of a hand towards the scenery around them. ] ... Glittery.

Glitz, glamour, and it makes a thriving business on telling stories through moving pictures.

[ His accent thickens again as he tries to explain things. ] And, the actors themselves can be seen as near royalty if they are lucky.

Aaah, I figured... [ The Doctor mutters in a whisper to himself, and he then tilts his head to the side when he hears of Gallifrey's trouble with the mention of war.

The lack of a name of an enemy brings a frown to The Doctor's face, as if things couldn't be any worse. He takes in a deep breath, and he lifts a hand up from the handle of the umbrella to point a finger in the air. ] I believe the troubles on Gallifrey are of some importance, as is knowing exactly who the enemy they are fighting might be.

It will make it easier for me to decide, and to perhaps plan a strategy to keep this outside force out.

When one refers to you as 'the Doctor,' nobody asks which Doctor. And when one refers to the Enemy, nobody asks for specifics. [She shifts a bit, uncertain, and for the first time, showing distress. Fear, to be exact.] Words...are elusive. Stupid language, so limited. To name the Enemy, to attempt to describe them, is to assume they have limits. To assume that they can be contained.

Besides. [She shrugs, lightly.] I can't tell you too much. I found you to ask your advice in a single matter. The nature of the Enemy is irrelevant.

[R frowns, a little crease forming between his eyebrows. It's not the usual expression for a zombie: usually it's the classic blank "how'd I die?" look. The Doctor just brings out the new and unusual out of people apparently]

But...sto-ries. New?

[R vaguely remembers actors, celebrities. Being invested. It's hard to bother with being invested these days when you're surrounded by nameless, shuffling corpses. R latches onto the other bits the Doctor mentions, the ones that still seem like they could be important]

Fav...orite...movie? [That's what they're called. R remembers movies if not their names or dates. He looks expectantly at the Doctor now]

[ The Doctor relaxes, and he slouches back against a lamppost with his umbrella coming to rest down by his side. Whoever this stranger is seems to mean no harm.

He gives a shake of his head. ] I'd hardly call them new in this day and age. [ When R asks him about his favorite movie, The Doctor tilts his head upwards with a thoughtful look on his face, and he lets out a sigh as if he can't seem to find one that stands out as his favorite. ]

Oooh, if you must know, 'Singing in the Rain'. You can never go wrong with the classics!

My name is a famous one, that I can assure you, so of course there is only one, The Doctor. This enemy must be very important if you came all the way into my past to ask me for help. [ The Doctor's brow arches into a scowl, and he tosses a glance back towards the TARDIS. ]

Oooh, I believe the nature of this enemy is indeed relevant, very relevant to if I decide to help you or not. However, where is my future self? And, why isn't he involved with this?

But what about other doctors? Orthodontists, dentists, chiropractors--they exist. You're not a Doctor, you're the Doctor. And they're not an enemy, they're the Enemy. Definite article.

Your future self is...indisposed. Busy. [She pauses a minute, before she sighs.] No, those are lies. Dead.

Tell me about Fenric.

[Classics? R gets the impression he likes classics, he likes Frank Sinatra's croons, Elvis's A Little Less Conversation. R seems to come slightly more alive at that, his shoulders straightening from where they've collapsed into his usual hunch]

Like...those. But... [R frowns. He doesn't know if he's seen that movie] Can't...re-remember.

[He'd love to, though! R looks hopefully at the Doctor. Would it be too creepy if he asked him to show him? Too early? R's rusty at this conversation stuff]

It all depends on who you speak with, but I... [ The Doctor's mood shifts when he hears Themis bring up, Fenric. He becomes quite, brow slopping, and he tenses up at the idea of him still being alive.

He figures as such, and he takes in a very deep breath. ] ... I just dealt with him, a being as old as the universe itself. We've made a habit into running into one another repeatedly.

[ The mood darkens as he starts to walk towards his TARDIS. ] Has he found himself another ancient one to use as a pawn?

Oh! I'm sure there's a store somewhere around here where we can find a copy! [ The Doctor whips around on his feet, and off he starts in a random direction to find a video store.

Here's hoping that the looters left something intact after the zombie apocalypse broke out. ] And we can maybe help with that glitch in your memory! Come on now!

[ The Doctor comes to a stop to give R a chance to catch up, and offers out a hand to him. ] We can also work on some other formalities, like a proper introduction. The name's The Doctor, and just who might you be.

[R has no choice but to totter after him, doing his best to keep up: despite the fact he stands head and shoulders over this man, he's still having difficulty keeping pace. Movies, his memory (he really thinks he can fix a zombie's memory?), and introductions. It's like following a living whirlwind.

He rocks to a stop as the Doctor suddenly offers a hand at him. R looks down, hesitant, trying not to think about taking a little nip out of his palm. Keep his biting to himself. After a long pause, R takes the Doctor's hand and wobbles it up and down in the weakest handshake of all time.

It's been awhile]

Rr. Can you...do all...that? [R's just finding it hard to believe, that's all. The post-apocalypse isn't exactly a hopeful place]

That's what the records say. [She puts her feet back down on solid ground and follows him. Here they are: the soldier bred for a Time War, and Time's Champion. Themis' feet don't leave footprints.]

The Time Lords fear that He may enter the War personally. No pawns, no possessions. Just Him. And if He does, so the Great Old Ones will follow.

Now what exactly does he want with The Time Lord's War? [ The Doctor doesn't like the sound of this, and he knows he is going to give in at some point. ]

Seeing I don't know much of this war, but still... [ The Doctor sighs, as he turns his head slightly to look to where the TARDIS sits under a small barren oak tree. ]

... I'm not about to let him get the upper hand, so if you need my assistance it is yours and The Time Lords for the time being.