by Merripestin
There was a little dried blood in the Doctor's fringe where he'd cut his forehead falling against the console.
Turlough warmed the pot, spooned tea , poured hot water, arranged the biscuits.
The wire had been tangled around the component the Doctor had wanted, and the component had been stuck, needed a tug. That was all. He hadn't even known what the wire was. Still didn't, except that it connected to the inertial dampers.
As he put the tray down a little tea spilled over the biscuits. "Sorry."
The Doctor touched his sleeve. "No harm done."
But Tegan still glared mistrustfully.
"Never Blame on Malice" 030909 by merripestin at yahoo dot com
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