[Having witnessed the clothes of other planets and seen a lot of glam rock on Top of the Pops, Sarah has adapted to the fashions comfortably and glitteringly - she's dressed in something that's not too different from what they'd put her in on Nerva, if it had been designed by Marc Bolan. She's even plucked a huge bloom from a tree in the park, and is wearing it behind her ear.
As for the long scarf, she knows it's self-indulgent, and he'd moan at her for it while trying to pretend not to be entirely flattered, but she'd found it on a craft stall in the arty end of town and hadn't been able to resist. It surprises her how good it feels, to have a scarf following her movements - it's all she can do to resist skipping to see how it would respond. The sights and sounds and smells of an alien world, all this danger, all that purpose - how could anyone, ever, give this up?
Of course, that's when a man gliding by on a hovercar honks at her and yells 'great smile, baby' as he zips off, which spoils her mood immediately.]
Why don't you go and...
[But he's gone. No good. And she's just drawn attention to herself by shouting. If only she'd come out with some kind of plan, or greater than a snowball's chance in Helios...]
Communicator
H - H... Hello! My name is Sarah Jane Smith, of Earth. I have nowhere to live and no idea what's going on, or at least it feels that way. Journalists here do something called 'a blog' - does anyone know what that's supposed to be? It sounds to me like some kind of medical condition, like the mumps.
Anyway, I'm looking for the Doctor. He looked a bit like Harpo Marx when I knew him, but he can look like anything - and be anywhere, and I don't know what he's called. He might even be a she, come to think of it. I wish I had something to offer that wasn't just bad news...!
Look, how about you call me with the people you're looking for, and we can help each other out? I'm going to set myself up as a paparazzo and I definitely wouldn't mind it if someone came along to help me send the security guards the other way. Would a string and a fifty-pound note work?
Sarah Jane Smith | OTA
[Having witnessed the clothes of other planets and seen a lot of glam rock on Top of the Pops, Sarah has adapted to the fashions comfortably and glitteringly - she's dressed in something that's not too different from what they'd put her in on Nerva, if it had been designed by Marc Bolan. She's even plucked a huge bloom from a tree in the park, and is wearing it behind her ear.
As for the long scarf, she knows it's self-indulgent, and he'd moan at her for it while trying to pretend not to be entirely flattered, but she'd found it on a craft stall in the arty end of town and hadn't been able to resist. It surprises her how good it feels, to have a scarf following her movements - it's all she can do to resist skipping to see how it would respond. The sights and sounds and smells of an alien world, all this danger, all that purpose - how could anyone, ever, give this up?
Of course, that's when a man gliding by on a hovercar honks at her and yells 'great smile, baby' as he zips off, which spoils her mood immediately.]
Why don't you go and...
[But he's gone. No good. And she's just drawn attention to herself by shouting. If only she'd come out with some kind of plan, or greater than a snowball's chance in Helios...]
Communicator
H - H... Hello! My name is Sarah Jane Smith, of Earth. I have nowhere to live and no idea what's going on, or at least it feels that way. Journalists here do something called 'a blog' - does anyone know what that's supposed to be? It sounds to me like some kind of medical condition, like the mumps.
Anyway, I'm looking for the Doctor. He looked a bit like Harpo Marx when I knew him, but he can look like anything - and be anywhere, and I don't know what he's called. He might even be a she, come to think of it. I wish I had something to offer that wasn't just bad news...!
Look, how about you call me with the people you're looking for, and we can help each other out? I'm going to set myself up as a paparazzo and I definitely wouldn't mind it if someone came along to help me send the security guards the other way. Would a string and a fifty-pound note work?