thedreamer | open post;

"We are - where?" he wonders, stepping inside as he looks around. He lets go of the Doctor's hand and turns in a bit of a circle. "This is nothing I have seen before!"

But that's the whole point of it, isn't it? To see things he hasn't seen before. To experience what he hasn't yet.

He's lived it so long, he forgets how it must seem, how it must feel the first time having a look at — everything. A slow, tender smile spreads on his face as he just watches Thomas take it in. His arms cross loosely over his chest, stepping back just a little, giving him space to wander.

"It's only the beginning," he says with such a thrill at it. "There's uh, well...anything you'd want to wear, really!"

"Give me - just a few minutes," he pleads playfully. There's so much to go through, so much to see, and he doesn't want to rush through it now. "You should dress, too."

He snaps his fingers together in delight, giving a little nod at the same time. "I'll leave you to it."

The Doctor won't be far gathering his own clothes, though he'll don his usual waistcoat and bowtie combination.

Thomas goes through what's available, finding himself trousers that fit and a sweater that looks comfortable enough. He's plain and unassuming, as always, but he does thread his fingers in his hair to try and look respectable.

If he can have a proper bath and a shave, he'll be a new man. But for now, he's going traveling with his Doctor.

He walks back out, hands in his pockets. "Alright, sir. What did you find?"

When they meet again, the Doctor's just tying up his blue-striped bowtie, patting it when he's done. Nothing overly fancy, but he foregoes any tweed jacket and braces in favor of just a simple button-up shirt, a herringbone vest over top, plain trousers. He's slightly scruffy himself these days, but pays no mind, particularly once Thomas is in front of him again.

"Thomas," he smiles so fondly, speaking his name like the man himself has just lit up every corridor and room in this whole ship. He comes closer, for a moment just cradling Thomas' cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb across his skin a moment before pulling his hand back. "Well! How do I clean up — acceptable?"

It's habit, or maybe it's just something he enjoys for the sake of it now, but he reflexively adjusts the Doctor's tie, even though it didn't need to be. He leans into him, into his hand. "You do. Now, show me your cloud city."

He's come to love it when Thomas makes those adjustments to his tie. "And not just any clouds! The oceans below are the most crystalline blue and gold, and the clouds refract the color so splendidly...well, enough talk, I'll actually show you," he catches himself before rambling further. He'll take his hand again and lead him out of the little suite where he's parked the TARDIS, down the hall to the dining area. There's the buzz of chatter from other people, from all over, but the room is expansive enough it shouldn't feel overly cramped. The Doctor is greeted by the maître d', Jonesy, who waves, calls his name, playfully chides him for not coming around again for a long while.

"Tell me all about Alice and the girls later," the Doctor calls back to him with a bright grin, tapping the side of his own nose with a little nod before continuing to lead Thomas towards a cozy little table in the corner. With a view, of course. Although just before he sits down himself, he thinks to ask, "You don't mind a proper meal first?"

Would it have been nearly time for breakfast for them before they'd been woken up? And here they are, in the middle of a dinner service. Time is funny that way.

While they managed well enough in Lakeside, Thomas hasn't had a 'proper meal' in years. The feast that was put on for all arrivals might have come close, but Thomas hasn't had more than the bare minimum in a very long time. So long that he can't even remember the last thing he ate that he would have considered filling. Or proper.

"No, sir. I don't mind at all." He squeezes his hand and then sits, allowing himself to take everything in.

"How do you know - him?" he wonders, casting a look over and then to the window where he doesn't tear his eyes away.

"The first time I came, it was because someone had called for help. Bit of trouble," he explains with a little shrug, as though it was a casual thing. "He was very kind, him and his family, and I promised I'd come see them again, check on them." A promise he was able to keep. He always means to keep every promise.

"Dessert to start?" He smiles playfully, though he's more fascinated watching Thomas look outside for the moment.

"Mm, whatever you'd like to do," he tells him, distracted. "Did you help them out of trouble?"

No matter how distracted, though, he is going to ensure that others are taken care of. Even if it's taken care of in the past.

In that case, he'll go straight for the chocolate mousse cake as what he considers a respectable starter. Not too much, just enough to tease the palate.

"I might have," he concedes, at first not planning to explain too much of it. Not for any particular reason except that he's not as good at telling stories about times he's saved the day. It's not the kind of limelight he wants or needs, but — "There were atmospheric changes at the time, nothing that made sense. This city in the clouds existed for centuries, no trouble whatsoever, but all of a sudden, ships and homes were falling out of the sky. It was no fault of their own and for once, no invading force was trying to harm anyone here, it was just a stroke of bad luck. The way they'd built the city — well, things had started to shift in the magnetic field holding everything in perfect stability. The simplest of causes, a very distant geomagnetic storm in the upper atmosphere that set things haywire." He waves his hand a little. "Rewired a few things, and Jonesy over there —" The Doctor nods to him. "He helped keep a lot of people calm."

It was simply science. Just the way that the world worked. No matter the world, they were all subjected to the whims of their planets. It's a little poetic in that way. Enough that Jopson turns back to him and reaches for his fork, doing something very ill-mannered.

He reaches over and takes a bit of the chocolate on his fork, the Doctor's chocolate, for himself.

"Oh," he laughs, covering his mouth in surprise.

A rare occasion when something goes wrong just because...things go wrong sometimes, and no menacing outside force had anything to do with it. That was a relief in and of itself. But now he's focused on Thomas eating his chocolate, and his subsequent reaction to it. He'd wanted this for so long, the simple pleasure of Thomas being able to easily indulge in one of the Doctor's favorite desserts.

"Incorrigible thief," he teases with a bright grin, too pleased at the reaction. "Don't stop there, at least another bite."

Thomas shakes his head. "I haven't - had anything like that before," he tells him and almost refuses again, but he can't help himself. He leans over and steals another bite of the chocolate, leaning against the Doctor's shoulders.

It's such a simple pleasure, really, watching the man he loves eating some chocolate mousse cake, but — it means everything to him. It's not just that, of course. It's being here at all, being near, able to show him this.

"Okay, one more of something else," he smiles, moving an arm around Thomas' waist, but simultaneously pulling a small plate closer. It's a variation of crème brûlée — this world's interpretation of it, that is. Near enough in texture and sweetness, with some purple and blue berries and cream in a circle around it. He cracks the shell with a spoon and lifts the spoon to Thomas' mouth.

It's ridiculous and silly and something out of a book. They're sitting together, leaning together like conspirators, and the Doctor is bringing a spoon of something that looks very delicious closer.

Thomas automatically takes it, trying it from the spoon, letting one hand drop down to gently place against the Doctor's leg.

"It's very good," he agrees. "But the chocolate is better."

There's a pleased sound, a fond laugh, under his breath at that remark. "And you would be absolutely correct."

He sets the spoon down, leans back comfortably, pats Thomas' hand against his leg. He likes it there.

"But now you've gone and spoiled yourself for supper," he teases. Who's the one who insisted on dessert first, after all. He knows what he's done. "There's time left for a good stew, the freshest local seafood, or something else entirely. Before sunset!"

"Seafood," he says with a laugh, because how are they getting that from the clouds? The ocean is so far away!

Still, he's trying to take things slowly, not wanting his stomach to rebel against him here.

"Seafood like you wouldn't believe," he hums a little. "It's quite fascinating, how different species adapt to their environments. There are fish here that can thrive in the very thickest, foggiest parts of the cloud layers."

He stops short of explaining about algae spores and decaying matter getting shuffled up into the atmosphere to help feed the fish. There are species below in the ocean, and they have gliders that fly down below, but before he can explain any of that, their server comes by, dropping off a batch of freshly baked rolls.

Fish that survive in the clouds? He needs to see that, to know how! The Doctor throws out these lovely, tantalizing facts and then declines to provide more information! Truly, Jopson is living in the worst age.

But then their server sets a small basket of fresh rolls, like it doesn't mean anything, like Thomas hasn't been dreaming of fresh bread for years.

"What a treat!"

He looks first to the Doctor and then to the rolls, his hand slowly reaching for one of his own. He has to be polite, as much as he wants to snatch it off the table.

He gently pushes the basket closer. "As much as you'd like! Should have started with these probably," he smiles a little sheepishly. There's so much he's wanted to share with Thomas, food and otherwise, but chocolate had seemed such a luxury to lead with. It's the bread that brings him back to those early days getting to know him, remembering how much he'd wanted to give him something even close to it.

He'll have to bake him a loaf of some sort in the TARDIS. He's never really baked in the TARDIS, but there's a first time for everything.

He wants to be a gentleman so badly, but that first bite of bread has him sighing a little too loud. He ducks his head, but he eats more anyway, undeterred by his own rudeness.

"Everything is - new," he reminds him. "Everything will be, but this - this is splendid."

Of course, the Doctor thinks him anything but rude and finds it delightful to see him enjoying it more openly. But he understands he has a different perspective at times when it comes to matters of decorum.

"There's so much I want to show you just here alone. After the sun sets — or suns, rather — just outside on the deck we should have a view of some of the fish swimming about in the cloud layers."

Thomas points at him with the bread.

"Now that, perhaps six months ago, would have made no sense to me! But I believe that I am able to now imagine it. Now I know what to expect, and that is - nothing!" he laughs softly, a little in awe still about this place. He tears into the bread again.

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