+ E I G H T

         [ What was she speaking about? Put there. And yes he was there ‘cause of the object that was under watch now probably by the head of the Torchwood branch if they had located it. She was pretty though — he had to confess that. She was beyond pretty and it made him highly jealous of whoever she was speaking about who told her to stay put to begin with. ]

      ❝Sorry? I mean yes I’m ‘ere ‘cause of that object. Who put you here?❞

"Not who but what"

A smile ever so slightly graced her lips, one of serenity. It masked all true feelings; she was in fact unhappy to be trapped here by such a weapon. Here she was, the Conscience, thinking herself better than the box. She was the thing that discouraged the destruction it could cause, who could manipulate its actions. But who controlled whom? Right now she was trapped by it. Even if she were free, her thoughts would return to it, to the fact no-one was keeping it away from harm. Though it is not how she liked to think of it, The Bad Wolf was merely guarding her master. That was the truth that presented itself.

"It's that object keepin' me 'ere"

     ”You are… a different scent, and energy,        altogether… hmm, what are you?”

"You ask the right questions at least, but I'm nothin' you need to know about"

"Just a wolf. A wolf in sheep's clothin'"

Seeing that the woman— or alien — or…whatever the blondie wanted to be known as was agreeable to try a drink, Greg ordered two. Another one for him of course, and one for her. Sliding the drink across to her he nodded.

"Is there a name I can call you by, then?"

Drink - it didn't not taste quite as strong as expected. It didn't not taste of much at all, in fact. More of a slight tingling sensation on the tongue. That could be down to her senses not being quite so human, therefore she did not interpret it in the same way. But overall it was not unpleasant, and was quite a good way of dispelling any awkwardness that could arise, so she found herself finishing rather quickly. Maybe this was something to try more often.

"Bad Wolf, I suppose. It's not my name, but then again, a name for me does not technically exist. Just nicknames". The Moment belonged to the box. So who was she truly - the Conscience? Rose Tyler? The Bad Wolf? Most of them borrowed names, the other something only to link her to the hated box.

  “So it seems,” he managed to say, scanning her with his eyes, trying to figure out how was any of this possible.

     ”H— How is this possible?”

Silently she observed as his eyes flicked over her, with both a look of confusion and analysis. A question seemed to be rapidly forming in his mind, which, once asked, the Moment considered for a second or two. 

"Because it's not impossible"

     "What are you doing here? I thought I left you in the parallel world."

"You thought wrong". No elaboration was made upon the three words. The Conscience just remained still, a slight smile on her face, almost as if she knew something the other didn't, and a glint in her unblinking eyes.

8 Entered Baker Street

      Good evening. 

            Do you require my assistance? 

"Just enjoying the peace"

"Thanks all the same". The 'niceties' sounded almost foreign in her voice - not in a way that made it sound sarcastic, merely like a child trying a new word for the first time. "Suppose you were here 'bout the murder?"

     He’s collected a box.

     He noticed it on his last hunt, and after ripping apart and eating someones brain, he’d wiped his hands on his jacket and carried it home. He got a few weird looks from the other zombies —— and M just sort of rolled his eyes at him —— but the box makes a nice addition to his pile of junk.

     However, he hadn’t anticipated someone appearing out of it, and he’s currently staring at blonde woman; quite lost for words. There’s no hint of the familiar scent of humanity hanging around, so he assumes she isn’t alive. But she isn’t dead, because nothing’s rotted.

She supposed, compared to other worlds she had seen completely devastated, this was not nearly as terrible as it could have been. 

Still, it had been enough to keep her hidden away for years. Seeing what had become of the world had been nothing she wished to witness, nothing she wished to be a part of. There was fear. And fear could make people desperate. A weapon on mass destruction would only be a temptation.

But a disturbance, brought upon by the change in locations, was enough to pry a little curiousity from her. Why would anyone want to own, what was essentially to them, an elaborate box? Wasn't going to do much for them. Upon further inspection, however, she found herself amidst many items - and in the presence of a zombie. One who was staring with some confusion, if it could be called such. 

"Didn't anyone tell ya, staring's rude?". The Moment did not approach the situation with terror, more interest.