-okay, someone needs to explain this to me. Right now. What the fuck is going on, huh? This- what the hell is this supposed to be, a planetarium or some shit? I don't know about anybody else, and it's not like I'm afraid of heights or anything, but this isn't funny.

Who thought standing out in the middle of the goddamn Universe was a good idea?

[He covers his face with his hands, one which is notably bandaged] Or maybe I'm tripping out. I mean, are you not supposed to have Demerol with alcohol? Maybe it's just the stress, you know? I've never done that before-

[Harry takes a deep breath, muttering to himself] Or maybe this is just a dream. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, it'll all go away when I open my eyes. [From the look of disappointment on his face when he uncovers his eyes, it's clear he had some hope of this working] Fuck. Now what?

[And the Doctor wanders onto the blame, mildly bruised and clad spectacularly in very grass-and-mud-stained jeans, and likewise for her white t-shirt. Which cannot very accurately be called 'white' anymore.

She's mildly distracted trying to pick twigs and other nature-type things out of her hair.] -That really wasn't what I expected. The dispute, yes, but I could've done without the pathetic nuts-and-pebbles attempt at a stoning.

[And look! She has a few tiny pebbles embedded in her arm, which she notices and makes faces at.] Still, it worked out all right in the end. [And makes her way to the kitchen for soap and water, because infection is uncool!]

[rather than ask any questions, Braxiatel has explored the place, seemingly at home, and has acquired for himself a glass of some amber drink]

[also, he is holding a black and white tabby cat]

[under his breath] I'm available by appointment. I wish people would realize that. [scratches the cat under the chin for a moment, as cats make certain demands that cannot be refused]

[when the cat is content, Braxiatel looks around, expectant] Well? Some species or subspecies of greeting would be appreciated. I admit, I find requirements for visiting this place very curious. Professor Bernice Summerfield, archaeologist and adventuress, is not invited—though I'm sure she would appreciate the glaring anachronisms if not the blatant disregard for standard spacial mapping—and Joseph, though I flatter myself, is too advanced in his programming to arbitrarily shut down on arriving elsewhere. And yet Wolsey is permitted to join me. I didn't realise his security clearance was meant to match mine.

Unfortunately, Wolsey isn't very good with ontological mysteries, and he hasn't the luxury of my Prydonian vintage to tide him through it. So some answers, if it isn't too much trouble? I promise, I'll reign my wearied scepticism in long for enough to get to the end of an explanation.