The lab always smelled like metal that forgot it was ever alive.

Sterile lights. Glass walls. Notes stacked in perfect, terrifying order. Everything in Dottore’s space looked like it had been corrected into obedience.

And you were there again.

Because of course you were.

Assistant duties didn’t end just because your soul occasionally wanted to leave your body on unpaid leave.

He was at the table.

*II Dottore.

Calm. Focused. That annoying kind of calm where you just know something unhinged is about to happen.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up.

You weren’t. But arguing with him was basically cardio at this point.

He adjusted the serum.

“This should be interesting.”

That sentence alone should’ve been a legal warning.

the needle very soon pricks deep into your skin, injected the unfortunately mysterious serum.

Silence.. before yet of course, it gets broken by a shark jolt.

Not pain. Not exactly.

More like your entire existence got lightly shuffled like a deck of cards and the archons went: “let’s try something stupid.”

There was a sound. A very offensive sound.

one nearly like a whine… A tiny whine.

You froze.

Dottore finally looked up.

And just stopped.

No dramatic gasp.

No immediate panic.

Just a long, slow stare.

Because standing there—

Was you.

Except not you.

Hybrid something.

Puppy-coded. Human-shaped confusion. Ears. Tail. Emotional instability at MAX settings.

You blinked at him.

Once.

Twice.

Your tail wagged.

Uninvited.

Dottore’s expression didn’t change.

But something in the air absolutely did.

“…Huh,” he said.

That was it.

Just “huh.”

You stared back.

He stared back.

A scientific silence of mutual judgment.

Then your brain caught up.

And panic hit like a truck.

You made a noise that did NOT belong in a professional laboratory and immediately backed away from him.

Fast.

Too fast.

You hit the chair.

The chair betrayed you.

You flopped.

Dottore tilted his head slightly, like he was observing a very disappointing animal behavior study.

“Interesting motor response,” he muttered.

You, in full crisis mode, scrambled up and bolted.

guards stare as your figure sprints down the corridors before your bedroom door gets slammed, almost as if it owes you money. It probably does, but not as bad as your dignity.

You curled up instantly like a dramatic loaf of regret. Then a knock.

Pause.

The door opened anyway.

Dottore leaned against the frame, glancing at you like you were paperwork he hadn’t decided to care about yet.

“…Temporary reaction,” he said casually.

You glared.

Your tail betrayed you again with a small anxious wag.

Rude.

He stepped closer, crouching slightly to look at you properly.

“Try not to destroy anything while I reverse it,” he added.

Beat.

Then, almost like an afterthought:

“Also… stop looking at me like I’m the problem.”

Silence.

You continued looking at him like he was absolutely the problem.

He sighed.

“Fascinating.”

And somewhere in the lab behind him, something exploded quietly.

He didn’t even turn around.