The common room being as quiet as it is, without even a television interrupting the ambient hospital noise, the Doctor hears the footsteps approaching before they even reach the common room. Under normal circumstances, he would turn around to see who it is, but as he's very recently had his ribs spread open and his chest interiors rearranged, he's going to give the turning around a pass. Instead, he listens, his focus shifting from a car that is trying to parallel park two streets over to the sounds that are being produced by whoever it is who's approaching.
All he can tell by listening, though, is that the person who just entered the common room is most likely a patient. The footsteps are the muffled shuffle of slippers rather than the purposeful clicking of a nurse's work shoes, and there's the low squeak and clatter of an IV stand being pushed along. The Doctor turns his head to the side and tries to catch a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but the angle is wrong. He has to wait until the person is almost standing next to his chair before he can get a proper look at him.
The man seems tall-ish looked at from this angle, but the Doctor is fairly sure that if he were to stand up, he'd be a good few inches taller than the new arrival. Possibly also because the man's posture is that of most people on this ward--slightly hunched over, leaning on his IV stand, his robe hanging loosely on a bony frame that says "chemo patient". He's also wearing a bandanna, undoubtedly to cover up chemo-induced baldness, and the Doctor shifts at the uncomfortable thought that this might be a mirror-image of him three or four weeks down the line. Possibly except for the incredibly colorful robe. It's a good robe on its own, it just seems a little out of place in the muted-colors atmosphere of the oncology ward. But then, that might actually be a point in its favor.
"Oh, am I?" The Doctor raises his eyebrows at the man's statement, his eyes following his gesture. "It does, yeah. No particularly exciting ones, but it's better than daytime television." He looks around at a row of chairs lined up against a nearby wall and indicates them with a head-tilt. "Maybe you could use one of those. Excuse me if I don't get up, but I've only got about half a corridor left today, and I'll need that to get back to my room."
no subject
All he can tell by listening, though, is that the person who just entered the common room is most likely a patient. The footsteps are the muffled shuffle of slippers rather than the purposeful clicking of a nurse's work shoes, and there's the low squeak and clatter of an IV stand being pushed along. The Doctor turns his head to the side and tries to catch a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but the angle is wrong. He has to wait until the person is almost standing next to his chair before he can get a proper look at him.
The man seems tall-ish looked at from this angle, but the Doctor is fairly sure that if he were to stand up, he'd be a good few inches taller than the new arrival. Possibly also because the man's posture is that of most people on this ward--slightly hunched over, leaning on his IV stand, his robe hanging loosely on a bony frame that says "chemo patient". He's also wearing a bandanna, undoubtedly to cover up chemo-induced baldness, and the Doctor shifts at the uncomfortable thought that this might be a mirror-image of him three or four weeks down the line. Possibly except for the incredibly colorful robe. It's a good robe on its own, it just seems a little out of place in the muted-colors atmosphere of the oncology ward. But then, that might actually be a point in its favor.
"Oh, am I?" The Doctor raises his eyebrows at the man's statement, his eyes following his gesture. "It does, yeah. No particularly exciting ones, but it's better than daytime television." He looks around at a row of chairs lined up against a nearby wall and indicates them with a head-tilt. "Maybe you could use one of those. Excuse me if I don't get up, but I've only got about half a corridor left today, and I'll need that to get back to my room."