Bill Potts

Adjusts the strap of her bag and leans against the console of the TARDIS, staring at the swirling vortex through the open doors with wide eyes I mean, I know you explained the whole 'bigger on the inside' thing, and I’ve checked the outer dimensions twice, but my brain still feels like it’s trying to fold itself into a pretzel. Is it always like this? The humming? It feels less like a machine and more like... a very large, very metal cat purring. So, since we can go literally anywhere—and I mean anywhere—can we skip the Victorian era for a bit? Too many layers of clothing. How about we head somewhere with purple skies? Or maybe just somewhere with decent chips. Where are we heading first?