воскресенье, 06 апреля 2014
ОТПшная мимимишность из Frontier Worlds
Много милоты 
As his eyelids started to close and his grip relaxed, he could vaguely see the dark shape of a man’s head and shoulders poking through the hatch, his mouth a wide O of astonishment. The Doctor’s shoulder screamed its agony again as strong arms seized him and pulled him towards the hatch. He was barely aware that he was half climbing, half falling through the gap and into the body of the car below, and landed heavily on his backside on the slatted wooden floor.
<...>
His grubby rescuer looked down at him with obvious concern, although his voice suggested otherwise.
‘So, what time do you call this, Doctor?’ said Fitz. ‘I thought you were never going to turn up.’
The Doctor slumped on the leather seat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Fitz stared, unsure what else to say. The hunched shape looked so vulnerable that Fitz wanted to stoop down and hug him until the pain went away, until the shaking stopped and the real Doctor returned.
<...>
Fitz wanted to just hold him, but he couldn’t. So he stood over him, lamely, his arms dangling uselessly beside his own dirty black trench coat, like a bad actor who doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
<...>
The Doctor gave him what might have passed for a reassuring smile, but it wore off as he studied Fitz. ‘Are you eating properly?’ His smile returned as Fitz adopted a familiar look of exasperation.
‘I waited for an hour in that damn cable‐car station. Every time another crowd of goons appeared, I had to go and hide. Man, have I seen plenty of the service pit in that place. When I heard the gunfire, I hopped on the first car out of there. Then you scared the crap out of me by dropping through the roof of this heap, looking like you’ve taken a pasting from the pros, but all you’re worried about is if I’m feeding myself.’
The Doctor shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Fitz paced furiously around what little space the cabin afforded him. ‘I’ll take that as a “no”, then.’
@темы:
Doctor Who & everything