(no subject)

River Tam and the Doctor were supposed to meet in the afternoon after she arrived.

That didn't happen.

In the middle of her second day, during Biochemistry, she's called for.

This is his office. It's a box-like white room, with hooks on the walls that no longer hold anything and a large desk that is entirely bare.

The man who sits behind it is far too tall; for the chair, for the room, for normal space. His eyes are a little too close together, and a little too big. He doesn't blink. Most of his head except for a narrow band around his eyes is covered with surgical cap and mask.

His arms at times seem too long, fingertips almost dangling over the far-edge of the desk. Blink and they're crossed, and you can see that that must have been an illusion; the forearms barely span the width of his body, the fingers are short and spatulate. Not the fingers of a surgeon.

This is the Doctor when he's making an effort. "Good afternoon, River," he says, with a voice like an accented cement mixer. Khud havternoon.