Rough Day // Tenth Doctor

Not much could shake Svetlana any more. By this point in her life she was too world-weary for things to have much of an impact on her. But this last call-out of her shift had chilled the paramedic down to the bone. A young man had been walking his dog in the park when he'd come across the passed-out form of a young female. 19 years young, Sveta had learned later as she'd searched her pockets while they rushed her to the hospital and found a university ID card. Her arms were covered in scars and cuts, her unconscious face tear-stained and she'd tried to overdose. It had been like looking at a mirror and it had chilled Svetlana like nothing else could.

Now she was at a local bar, already on her second shot. She'd been thankful that that had been the last call of her shift. The brunette doubted that she'd be able to concentrate on work properly after having seen that. The girl had been stabilised and was now at the hospital, but the image of finding her passed out in a wooded part of the park just wouldn't shake itself from Sveta's mind. It was exactly like looking through a mirror back in time.

"Another one please," Sveta mumbled to the bartender who obediently slid another shot-glass of clear liquid toward her. Downing it, the woman sighed. This was going to be a long night. For the briefest of moments she contemplated texting either Rory or Clara but dismissed the thought in seconds. Things like this she dealt with best by bottling them up. Ever since her teens she'd been an expert bottler. Most said that it wasn't healthy, but it worked for her so she wasn't about to change.

The Doctor walked around the console casually. He decided to make a pit stop in London, just to take a breather for a minute. He checked the monitor after the TARDIS had landed. London, 2013. He had landed exactly where he wanted to! He sighed in relief, he had hoped his Time and Space machine would actually listen to him this time.

He adjusted the laces on his converse shoes, and put on his famous brown trench coat. He opened the doors and walked outside. Before he went any further, he inserted the key into the slot and locked the doors. He didn't think anyone would want to contact the police tonight, but he just wanted to be sure no one accidentally walked into his ship. He then noticed the bar, and decided to step inside.

Running a hand through her hair, Sveta sighed. Pushing the trio of empty shot glasses back towards the bartender, she contemplated going home. The drinks hadn't helped, not one bit. Her mind was still replaying everything over and over again. And to top it all off, the brunette was nowhere near drunk.

Maybe she'd just call Rory. He always proved to be a good distraction. She'd hardly have to talk and would just be able to distract herself by kissing him all night. Hopping down off the bar stool, she got out her phone and headed for the exit, texting as she went. Not the best of ideas, obviously, which she realised as soon as she bumped into someone at the entrance. "Ah! I'm so so sorry!" she apologised quickly, crouching down to pick up her fallen phone.

The Doctor stumbled a tiny bit when this girl bumped into him, but was able to regain his footing. He looked at her when she apologized. "Oh, no, it was my fault." He said. He noticed her phone had fallen to the floor, and bent down to grab it as well. When he did, he handed it to her.

"I believe this is yours, Miss...." He had hoped to hear her name. She looked like she wasn't in the best of moods, and because of his kind hearted nature, he wanted to help her out.

When the stranger handed Sveta her phone back, she gave him a smile. Not many people would be so relaxed about someone bumping into them like this, especially when it really had been her fault. It was nice to know that London wasn't full of total grouches. "Thanks. Svetlana. Or Sveta. Take your pick. And you are...?" she asked, studying the man before her.

"The Doctor." He stated, leaning against the door frame. "And before you ask, 'Doctor Who', I'll tell you, it's just The Doctor." She would probably have much more questions after how mysteriously he told her his name. But, it wasn't abnormal. He usually got questions for that sort of thing. And he was ready to answer in any way he could without revealing too much. "Nice name, Sveta....Russian, by the sound of it. Or am I wrong?" He was rarely wrong with these sorts of things, but he just wanted to be sure.

At his answer, Svetlana raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Alrighty. Nice to meet you, 'just The Doctor'," she replied with an amused smile. Well, whatever floated his boat. Who was she to judge what he wanted to be called? When he complimented her name, she couldn't help but grin. "Yep, it is," she told him with a nod. "Russian through-and-through," she added with a chuckle. "Do you want a beer? Or are you meant to be waiting for someone?"

"Well, I'm more of a wine person, actually." He said, looking at the establishment. "And I'm mainly here just to see what new people I can meet. I'm a social person." He adjusted his tie and ran a hand through his spikey hair. "Well, enough about me, love. Why are you here?" He tilted his head a bit as he asked her this question. He wasn't expecting a straight answer from her, but he always like it when people tried to be cryptic and mysterious with him. After all, no one in the universe is better at being cryptic and mysterious than himself....

"Wine person, huh? Well, let me buy you a glass. This place used to be the watering hole of a good friend of mine and she loved their wines here..." She gave him a crooked sort of smile, brushing some hair from her eyes. It probably wasn't right, that her solution to everything was alcohol, but she knew no other way to deal with all the sadness and emotional draining that came with her job. It was either this or dancing; dancing was her only other escape from the world.

"I just got off shift. It was...harrowing to say the least. I work as a paramedic," she added, giving a shrug as if that explained everything. Which, in a way, it sort of did. The events that paramedics had to deal with on a day-to-day basis were chilling, to say the least. Sure, Sveta got normal call-outs like asthma attacks, sweet old ladies taking a tumble down the stairs and hurting their hips, or a premature labour beginning. Those were fine; they were the sorts of call-outs that made her remember why she had become a paramedic - so she could help people. But then there were the rest. The bloody vehicle accidents, the overdoses, the heart attacks, the strokes. And the failed suicides. Svetlana hated those the worst.

She sighed, the sigh being one that was world-weary and spoke of a person who had seen way too much pain in the world for someone so young. The next moment she gave a brave little smile and nodded towards the bar. "White wine or red, Doctor?"