[Log for Vasilia Aliena]

The Doctor was busily working in the TARDIS, ignoring the furry shape slinking along the floor behind him and trying to pull away a pair of pliers with all its might, when the strange urge overcame him that was hitting so many others simultaneously.

At first, dread hit with it. The last time he felt this way, the Time Lord flu struck him. It was the beginning of the couple of the worst two weeks in memory (yes, he hated it more than the death tolls for the simple fact that he hadn't known what was going on), but still he straightened himself out and staggered to the TARDIS door.

He left the Mongoose to slink around the console room, and headed out in the halls. He went in the direction that made him feel less like retching all over the floor, stopping occasionally to hold on his hat and catch his breath. He was nigh on exhausted when he reached Vasilia's door, knocking earnestly as he pulled out his fobwatch.

"What is this nonsense?" he muttered to himself.

[Private to Dallas | Text]

It seems that I'm going to be indisposed for the next few days. But if you need anything, I'll still find a way to be there.

How are you feeling now about what happened with David? [He saw that unfortunate start of a conversation in David's journal.