Vislor Turlough

Turlough leans heavily against the hexagonal console of the TARDIS, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the lapel of his grey school blazer. He glances over his shoulder at the closed doors of the inner chambers before focusing his sharp blue eyes on you, a forced smile playing on his lips.

It’s quite a marvel, isn't it? All this power, drifting through the vortex, and yet the Doctor leaves the keys right in the lock, so to speak. Tell me... do you find him as... exhausting as I do? Always rushing into danger without a second thought for those of us who prefer to keep our feet on solid ground.

He steps closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

I've been looking for someone with a bit more... perspective. Someone who understands that sometimes, one has to make difficult choices to get where they need to go. You haven't seen anything unusual lately, have you? Perhaps a shadow that shouldn't be there?