The Doctor’s eyes narrowed, as the disc-like-object spun in front of him. The force was enough to cause small tendrils of his hair to bow from the light breeze. Rolling his head to the side, the Doctor narrowed his eyes at the device, half convinced that it was magic. The other half was well aware of the science behind it. In all reality, it was a bit annoying to be so brilliant. It removed a great deal of magic from the Universe, which should otherwise exist. Perhaps that is why he found himself on Earth so often. Humans – the loveable descendants of apes – were always trying to raise their intelligence as a whole, yet managed to hold onto an innocence that the Time Lords had lost long ago. If something didn’t make sense, or was unexplainable with their words and technology, it was either pushed away as an act of God, or relished as magic. The idea sent a chill down his back. With a soft smile, the Doctor reached towards the spinning top, throwing off its center of gravity by placing a single finger at its peak.

The top wiggled, as its center of balance was thrown off from the new pressure. As it careened out of control, the Doctor’s deep eyes silently watched. It was almost too easy to destroy someone’s world. He had forced an increase in entropy within the room, simply by poking the child’s toy. Remarkable, really. The top continued to spiral unevenly, until the balance on one side became too great, causing it to fall to one side and roll off the table. The Doctor’s hand fell forwards, catching the top with a slight thud. His long fingers curled around the toy – his expression blank.

Dropping the top back onto the table-top, the Doctor folded his arms and rested his chin upon the arm-pretzel he just created. With other Time Lords running around the Universe, the Doctor was struggling with an odd case of identity crisis. At home, he was the Lonely God – always trying to save the Universe, since he was the only one that could. Before that, he was the off-shoot, the black-sheep, the ‘unique’ Time Lord, that always had a different idea or technique then the rest. But here? He was just some misplaced alien. Time Lords were everywhere. They all could handle things. Plus their political foundations – which turned the Doctor into the ‘unique’ one – were different here. He was still at risk of being arrested and thrown away into Shada for the rest of his lives at all times, but for some reason, everything just felt…different.

Maybe being in an adjacent Universe helped that ‘off’ feeling.

Pushing himself to his feet, he spun to top on the tip of his pointer finger, before catching it within his hand once more. With a deep breath, he found himself back in the control room, with no intentions of doing anything. However, something behind him slid, causing the Doctor to glance over his shoulder for a brief period, as he walked. Thanks to the fact that he hadn’t moved his Nitro-Florenz-Ultra-Control-Mechanism from last night, his Converse-clad foot crashed into the side, causing the Time Lord to lose his balance, and his grip on the top. The toy crashed into the control panel, sending the already weary TARDIS to an unknown destination.

The Doctor frowned, as the top rolled back to his hand.
“Funny – I never fathomed a top as a boomerang,” he joked, pushing himself to his feet, as he slid the top into his overcoat’s pocket. It had been awhile since he donned his old attire. The ‘formal wear’ had been put away when Rose had disappeared a few months previous, but honestly…he was growing tired of corduroy and denim. Sliding his tie into place, and tightening the knot on his left cream Converse, the Doctor glanced at the display, as the TARDIS slowed. He was going back to Earth. More specifically – Canada in the twenty-fourth century, around Toronto, Ontario.

Honestly, he ended up in the UK far too often. A little Maple-Leaf never hurt anyone. Exiting his TARDIS, he glanced around the chilled area – his always-vertical hair ebbing gently with the breeze. Pulling out his sonic, he scanned the area. Someone was coming towards him.

But what?

Moving in front of his TARDIS, he began wandering towards the signal, as he exited the alleyway – wanting to know who was tracking him…and why.

It made sense that he was being tracked, considering he was an alien to this Universe…no pun intended. In the UK, however, it was a whole new danger. A little establishment called ‘WhiteChapel’ wished nothing more then to hang him by his knickers and pull apart his TARDIS until it was nothing more then lovely pieces of scrap metal. Not a good thing by any means.

Holding up his sonic, he passed by several people who shot him odd looks – his heart pounding within his chest…the dormant one remaining frozen in place. That still muscle pounded of his mortality. He could almost feel time slipping by. It was chilling. Shaking off the feeling, the Doctor’s brows furrowed as the signal grew increasingly closer until…

The Doctor was nearly knocked off his feet by a sudden collision. Quickly sliding the sonic into his pocket, both his eyes widened as the woman hit the ground.
“Oh…so sorry miss,” he apologized, offering her a hand to her feet.
"Oh, geez, so sorry, didn't see you there !" she replied, dusting off what appeared to be a monacle. The Doctor laughed with a cheeky grin, shaking his head slightly, “Right back at ‘cha,” he agreed – his deep eyes studying the monocle suspiciously.

"Cheerio !" she suddenly spouted, running off before the Doctor could slide in another word. Caught off guard, the Doctor dumbly stood there a moment, a confused expression crawling across his features.

“Wha…” he began, before promptly turning in the direction she walked, hurrying along to attempt to catch up with the mysterious woman, “Wait!”

His steps smashed upon the pavement, as he quickly closed the gap between he and the monocle woman, “Wait!” he closed his eyes a moment, throwing out his consciousness to hers – immediately feeling the classic Time Lord vibe, “Need any help? TLs often accomplish more in packs.”

What? It’s true.