“Aye, a’right then.”

Jamie straightened up. He thought, for a moment, about telling the Doctor he was more or less fine and could probably stagger to the bathroom without needing to lean on him…. but it was sort of nice. Reassuring.

He slipped an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders, and smiled softly.

“Thanks fer patchin’ me up.”

Eh? Well, of course, I – well. You’re quite welcome, Jamie.

He returned Jamie’s smile, and – although he was none the wiser, really, on the level of Jamie’s renewed strength, he was relieved by his responsive attitude. They came to the right room and the Doctor nudged its door open with his toe.

Inside was a large, squarish tub with clawed feet on a checkered floor – and several mismatched knobs and faucets for various types of bubblebath. Crammed beside and around it were shelves and shelves of every kind of soap and rolled towels and shampoo  ( the nearest was labeled Polly – don’t use!! )  and at least a dozen rubber ducks jumbled throughout.

Right, well – how are you feeling, then, Jamie? If you’re feeling fit enough, I – I think everything you’ll need is in here, or – oh, is there enough soap?

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