
[Even within the confines of the TARDIS, the Doctor has never been the easiest to track down. Especially when it comes to the downtimes between adventures. Which are, admittedly, few and far between, but every now and then he seems to remember that his companions are somewhat less than tolerant of the breakneck pace he seems to prefer, or simply decides that there's no hurry to continue on immediately.
(The latter is, of course, the less common, but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen all the same.)
Today is one of those rare occasions. The TARDIS hums silently to herself as she hovers in the Vortex and the console room is distinctly lacking in any sort of Time Lord presence. In fact, if and when Leela should happen to go looking for the Doctor, he doesn't really seem to be anywhere at all - an odd thing, when he usually seems to spend half of his time just sort of passively filling all available space with his presence. On the other hand, someone with a hunter's keen sense might just pick up the sounds of something large move through one of the nearby hallways. Something large and clawed, at that, given the soft and rhythmic clicking of something hard against the floor. And under even that, there's a the soft whisper of cloth brushing along the ground - whatever is in the TARDIS, it's a very strange sort of something.]