(no subject)

Alex Reagan didn't have a coffee problem! She didn't. Okay, maybe she had a little of a coffee problem. But then again most people would if they hadn't had a good night sleep in three years. And they lived in Seattle, which was the coffee center of the world. Still, Alex is remarkably good at both makeup and dealing with her lack of sleep after all this time. But even then she's phased when there's the sound of a crashing, and a blue box literally just... crashlands in front of her.

"Oh my god!" The woman's voice is radio ready and distinctive, and still laced with a bit of her Canadian accent.

The blue box, whatever it is, misses the Pacific Northwest Stories studio, thank goodness, and seems to also miss every building on the street, but it's still there directly in front of her. Directly in front of her and everyone else around on the busy downtown street seems to be ignoring it. Thankfully for whoever was inside anyway, Alex Reagan, tiny and annoyingly persistent reporter, was never quite good at ignoring things that she really rather should. Seriously, she'd spent the last nearly three years working on a podcast that was full of things that she should actually have avoided.

Too late now though, and Alex has never been very good at listening to anything close to common sense, so still holding onto her coffee (a girl has to have priorities, and it's early enough in the day that her first reflex isn't to reach for the audio recorder that's practically an appendage in and of itself). Running towards the box, Alex quickly pushed on the door shouting, "is anyone in there?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Alex is trying to pay attention and focus on what it is that she's meant to be doing here, but she finds her gaze drawing towards Amy as the other woman explained. For more than most of her life, Alex Reagan has collected stories. Interesting stories about interesting people was how her podcast was initially billed, before everything had happened with Strand, and she was acutely reminded of that in this moment. Granted, this was a story that would really make people question her sanity, but it was still a good one.

Hey, Welcome to Nightvale was fictional, maybe she could do something like that and call it fictional even if it wasn't. If nothing else, she could always just try and get some people she knew involved in the recording of it. Paul would be for it even if no one else was.

Remembering what she was supposed to be doing at almost the last moment, Alex started to hammer the nails into the wood once again, but she couldn't stop herself from asking, "okay. So. How long did he make you wait? Because that's definitely a tone of someone who has been made to wait for someone. And how many people did you bite?"

"Twelve years, the first time," she said, flatly. "Twelve years, and four psychiatrists."

"I did say I was sorry for that, you know."

"He has a time machine, and was late to our wedding. Late to everything, this one."

"It sounds like a friend of mine. But I swear he does it to make a statement." Nic can be an idiot sometimes, and when he's late she tends to think it's on purpose because his time is more valuable than hers is. Or anyone's is really. It drives her crazy. Somehow though, she doesn't think that the Doctor is like that. Or maybe it's that she was hoping so honestly.

"Well, considering how I just met you guys, I think it's safe to say that he likes to make an entrance, right?"

Rory pulled a face and opened his mouth to respond, but the Doctor cut him off before he could.

"Right! That's one good mirror down, still need three more for the walls, one for the base and one for the roof. Let's move people! We haven't got all of time and space till she's safe, then you all can gossip over tea and snog or whatever it is you humans do."

Amy snorted rudely. "Human enough around River, aren'tcha?" she asked, tossing her hair as she went to go look for more mirrors.