"The bus?" Okay, she doesn't sound good. The background noise he's picking up, from her end of the phone conversation, that's all normal London street noise, though...so whatever's wrong, it must be normal wrong. Human wrong. Which leaves him far more adrift than abnormal wrong. "It's fine, Astrid, everything's going to be fine, you stay right where you are."
He leaps around the console, flings the TARDIS doors open, and strides out into the street. Right, there's the bus. A bus. Probably the bus. And that means...
"Astrid!" He flips the phone shut, jams it into a jacket pocket, and sprints across the street, dodging traffic without sparing a glance for the cars, his attention entirely on her. Something's wrong with her—what's wrong with her?
no subject
He leaps around the console, flings the TARDIS doors open, and strides out into the street. Right, there's the bus. A bus. Probably the bus. And that means...
"Astrid!" He flips the phone shut, jams it into a jacket pocket, and sprints across the street, dodging traffic without sparing a glance for the cars, his attention entirely on her. Something's wrong with her—what's wrong with her?