The console was smoking. Not a little flutter of steam like when the TARDIS has a tantrum at the edge of a time-lock, oh no -- she was [i]billowing[/i] with hissy hot rage. It swirled and loomed white with a sulfury smell that gagged in the Doctor's new throat.

He coughed, crawled along the floor with splayed limbs, grabbed the hot console and dragged himself to his feet, wheezing. The walls were cracking. The smoke made his eyes water. At least he had eyes. And hands. And feet, in proper working order as far as he could tell. He blinked away the film from his eyes just as the TARDIS lurched; the console slammed into his stomach and knocked the breath out of him.

"Gaaaa-hahaha!" he laughed in pain and with the joy of being alive and whole, and he launched himself to proper standing position. "All right, come on then!" he hollered, racing clockwise round the console from button to lever to switch, even as the floor stilled and steamed. A fire sprang up between his feet, and he jumped and stumbled backward, grabbed a fire extinguisher (wherever did he get [i]that[/i]?) and fumbled with it for a moment before dousing the fire down good with a thick stream of foam.

It was at this moment that there was a distinct knocking at the door.

[i]Knocking?[/i] He was sure he had been hurtling through space! Whoever could be [i]knocking[/i] halfway between galaxies? Without a second thought he bounded to the door, yanked it open and stuck out his head through a billow of white smoke, eyes wide with curiosity.

What he found was a human girl sitting on the floor and staring at him with -- well, quite the sort of face you would expect from a person who'd just found a man in a box in her house.

"Oh. Hello! Sorry!" He grinned amiably and dawdled out into the room, the fire extinguisher dripping in one hand and the other let down to help her to her feet. He was dressed in old Victorian clothes that didn't quite fit him (and didn't at all suit him): a scarf and a frilly shirt and a coat that had once been properly neat but now was scuffed and charred. The shoes were all pinchy, too.

"I'm just a little busy now," he interrupted her, and he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the smoke that was billowing into Rose's room. "Shifting dimensions and all that, no time to talk. Come back later, 'kay?" His smile was goofy and bright, and he hopped back into the TARDIS and yanked the door shut behind him.

A second passed before the door opened again, letting in another flow of smoke, and he stuck his head out, his brow furrowed curiously. "Is this your bedroom?" he asked in a lilting voice, as he glanced around at the stuffed animals and pink duvet. It wasn't often the TARDIS materialized so precisely inside a building without his guiding finesse. "Huh." He withdrew suddenly, and the door was shut once again.