The Doctor was not waiting for her, but she knew where she was going. She strode down the empty, spotless hallways, past innumerable matching doors. There were no windows in this place. Nothing peeking into the outside.
So does she have her power yet? She’d have to for the thing I suggested in the last post to be, but there was a bit of a wait.
If she does have it, maybe she’s here to receive instructions on one of her favors?
But if not, I think we’re about to see her receive her product.
Still, she knew where she was. She’d checked the GPS data on her necklace. The Ivory Coast. The west coast of Africa. It was dangerous information to have.
Oh, huh. That would explain the Doctor’s dark skin and French accent.
If I tried to open one of those doors, would it be locked? What would be inside? Or would alarms go off, my chance here spoiled?
Maybe there’s nothing behind them, their presence being a test for customers as far as following the rules goes.
She’d been here twice since her first meeting. Both times, she’d had her psychological testing. She’d also had a full workup done. The psychiatrist had been a young-looking white man, the doctor a heavyset Greek.
Sounds like it’s time, then.
Although I guess it might be time for the physical testing? Or is that what she means by workup?
They’d said little beyond what they needed to for the testing, and had volunteered nothing about Cauldron.
Aw.
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