More of Huck, because tonight I’m in that kind of mood.

+ Open

‘French? How many earth languages are there?’ Humans always have to be so confusing didn’t they? At least the TARDIS she was suppose to only use for school resting translated properly.

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"Gallifrey?" I repeated. I ain't never heard of that before. Even with all that schooling that widow teached me didn't learn me nothing. I'd have to ask Jim about that.

"Europe? How come you're all the way here?"

+ Open

"Ma mère est française. Je ne suis pas française." She grins.

I stare at her blankly, understanding no word she says. I ain't even gonna try, I decide. "So you are, then."

+ Open

‘Now that’s something creative, I wish more time lords thought like that’ She spoke to herself mentally, while trying to get a good look at the boy, “What’s the right answer? I’m not from ‘round here.” ‘This must be earth slang’

I shrug in reply. "I don't know, an' I ain't neither. It's a-saying do you know how to talk French, that all I know." I look at her in mild interest.

+ Open

"I would think them to be quite silly, as it is clearly ‘parlez vous français.’"

"How d'you know that?" I ask her. "Unless yer one o' those French people."

We spread the blankets inside for a carpet, and eat our dinner in there. We put all the other things handy at the back of the cavern.  Pretty soon it darkened up, and begun to thunder and lighten; so the birds was right about it.  Directly it begun to rain, and it rained like all fury, too, and I never see the wind blow so.  It was one of these regular summer storms.  It would get so dark that it looked all blue-black outside, and lovely; and the rain would thrash along by so thick that the trees off a little ways looked dim and spider-webby; and here would come a blast of wind that would bend the trees down and turn up the pale underside of the leaves; and then a perfect ripper of a gust would follow along and set the branches to tossing their arms as if they was just wild; and next, when it was just about the bluest and blackest—FST! it was as bright as glory, and you’d have a little glimpse of tree-tops a-plunging about away off yonder in the storm, hundreds of yards further than you could see before; dark as sin again in a second, and now you’d hear the thunder let go with an awful crash, and then go rumbling, grumbling, tumbling, down the sky towards the under side of the world, like rolling empty barrels down stairs—where it’s long stairs and they bounce a good deal, you know.

"Jim, this is nice," I says.  "I wouldn’t want to be nowhere else but here. Pass me along another hunk of fish and some hot corn-bread."

"Well, you wouldn’t a ben here ‘f it hadn’t a ben for Jim.  You’d a ben down dah in de woods widout any dinner, en gittn’ mos’ drownded, too; dat you would, honey.  Chickens knows when it’s gwyne to rain, en so do de birds, chile."

+3

"State your reason for being here."

"Please, miss..it's my mum," the boy started.