Sunlight streamed through the windows of the Doctor’s laboratory much as curses streamed from the open door of that funny blue box he kept in the corner. Benton, who had just popped his head in to say good morning and ask if anyone would like some coffee, winced. He was about to duck back into the hallway when the Doctor himself came storming out of the TARDIS, tugging off a pair of riding goggles and wiping at his face and neck with a soiled handkerchief. Benton sighed to himself and moved fully into the room. There would be no escape now.
“I’ve had it!” the Doctor cried. “Infernal piece of junk!” He smacked his goggles and kerchief down on one of the lab tables, then spun, gesturing to the room at large. “And look what I have to work with! Primitive scientific equipment from an era of earth history before the invention of anything more useful than the toaster oven–besides weapons, of course, because what better way to spend your energy than think up new methods of killing each other--!”
At this point, Liz exited the TARDIS, brushing soot off her lab coat. “Don’t go blaming us for the century we live in,” she snapped. “You just have to get used to working with what’s available, that’s all. The rest of us do.”
“I’m not the rest of you,” the Doctor grouched, glaring around the room.
His eyes fell on Benton and the erstwhile Sergeant gulped and fought the erg to snap to attention. “I–I just wondered if you’d like some … coffee…sir…” He trailed off as the Doctor looked incensed at the very mention of coffee.
“What I would like, Mr. Benton, is to get as far away as possible from all of you!” the Doctor snapped, then grabbed his cape and headed out the door. “If you should need me to save your little planet again, I’ll be in Bessie, driving until I can’t see London!”
He slammed the door behind him.
“Well,” sighed Liz, “I wouldn’t mind a cup, if the offer’s still open.”