Planting the wards at the docks would seem to be, on the surface, a reasonably straightforward task. Yet, even excluding their recent tribulations, it's not in the Doctor's nature to expect anything at all to be simple and straightforward. Truthfully, he'd be bored otherwise. Though, he's continued to lodge complaints to an unseen force about how very much he does not appreciate his friends being put in continuous danger lately.
Then again, aren't his friends often in danger when they journey with him?
"There I go again," he murmurs to himself, kneeling by the shoreline close to the docks. "Not a good idea, that. Me alone, I mean. See? Talk to myself too much. Oh, that's terribly dull. Do I always sound like that?"
As he rambles, he's leaning in closer to the docks, examining the wood, the rope, the chains. He will even swipe a finger across a rusted chain and touch that same finger to the tip of his tongue to check...something. And he makes a face that quickly passes, though he seems to be lost in thought now.
✘ magical sequence of events | under the boardwalk down by the sea...
Then again, aren't his friends often in danger when they journey with him?
"There I go again," he murmurs to himself, kneeling by the shoreline close to the docks. "Not a good idea, that. Me alone, I mean. See? Talk to myself too much. Oh, that's terribly dull. Do I always sound like that?"
As he rambles, he's leaning in closer to the docks, examining the wood, the rope, the chains. He will even swipe a finger across a rusted chain and touch that same finger to the tip of his tongue to check...something. And he makes a face that quickly passes, though he seems to be lost in thought now.