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The areas turned out to be residential, and every home Leah tried had a personal computer. None, however, had any electricty coming into their (twin round pin) mains sockets, so trying to find people online was out, even if she could use a foreigncomputer with no access software.

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So instead she started collecting batteries and settled down in one of the more secure first floor flats to pull apart a hifi system and construct a useable Short Wave radio. This she tuned through miles of thick white noise while adding a transmitter.

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The morse code transmitter is easy. It's a few days and a lot of cannibalised electrical appliances before she perfects a battery powered motion device that will keep the SOS code on a loop on a fixed frequency, but she manages that.

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That channel stays open while she starts building a new radio.

[OOC: very much open, but please do not tag if your character would be able to locate and rescue Leah. I want to keep her lost for a while]

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"You're welcome," the Doctor says.

There's a brief pause.

"Well - you seem to know who I am," she says, dryly. "I'm the thirteenth of my selves in my own time-line, and the first woman. I have met some of my alternate selves who have been female earlier but in my case it didn't come about until I was fairly comprehensively killed. My assistant peculated that it was a way around the restriction on regenerations."

"Does the other yous have the same voice?" Leah asks, cheekily.

Hell, she's stuck in a strange world with very little hope of rescue soon. She's going to flirt.

"Cause I'm tellin' ya, I could listen to yours all day."

That earns her a musical chuckle.

"No, she's rather different - one of those dark fascinating types. I'm more your upper-class totty."

Flirting is always good.

"Call me whenever you like. Ask prettily and I might read you stories."

"Oh man, don't make that offer unless you'll commit," Leah says. "I'm gonna be missing my talking books soon enough."

"Hm."

That sound is the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

"I've retired from saving the universe," she says, "I can spare some time."

"Brilliant," Leah says. "I never got the hang of retirement, myself."

"It's only an official retirement," she says wryly. "Things keep going wrong, I keep getting drafted in to help. Nothing much has really changed."

Beat.

"Aside from having boobs."

Leah laughs.

"Oh man, boobs change everything. My dad was just teaching me archery when my puberty kicked in."

"Ouch." The wince is definitely audible.

"I hope you didn't take the route of the Amazons?" Because to spoil a fine bosom would be a crime.

"Ha!" Leah laughs. "No, I just switched to crossbows and slingshots for my main weapon. Luckily nothing got too big."

"Sensible sentiment," the Doctor says, approvingly.

There is a pause, and then a curious question.

"You're from a fairly advanced Earth I'm guessing, from the Morse code. And yet you were trained using bow weapons? Do you mind me asking why?"

The pause is repeated as Leah mulls this over. She's not used to inter-acting with many people outside her community, and has to make a decision about what to say.

She settles on, "My Dad's William Creswick. Does that mean anything to you?"

There's a pause, and then the answer.

"No, it doesn't. Aside from an actor who died in 1888, who I doubt you mean."

"Really not," Leah agrees.

"Nah, he's just a big weapons buff, and passed it on. I've got background in near any ranged weapon you'd care to name. Really, I always regretted there not being an Olympic category for the slingshot."

That gets an amused chuckle, although the Doctor is pretty convinced that she's not being told everything - but hey. She wouldn't tell a stranger her darkest secrets. hell, everyone knows who the Doctor is - but she's not going to give away anything that isn't common knowledge.

"Fair enough," comes the reply. "There is for archery, though - did you ever compete?"

"Nah," Leah says. "Not my thing, really. Spotlight, attention, stupid trophies. It's just a hobby to me."

Well, sort of. Now. Officially.

Yeah, she's lying. But well.

"I understand that!" Is the rueful answer. "It sort of takes the fun out of something when there's importance attached - although of course there was a time when archery and the like was more likely to save your life than net you a medal."

Why, yes. She is prying.

"Yeah, there was," Leah confirms, and it's true even if she takes the 'you' to be personal, which she does.

"Even then, it was best if no one knew if was you pulling the string."

"True," she agrees. "Safety in anonymity."

Leah's silent for a second, then snorts. "Man, I almost got all deep there about the compromise between trust and safety. I'm going to start searching for beer as soon as possible,get me out of this funk."

"Be careful," she says seriously. "Being on your own is hard - don't let alcohol become a crutch."

Because that would suck.

No one can see it, but Leah snaps a salute to the radio.

"I'll be lucky if I can find enough for that," she says. "Don't worry about me - I've never needed a crutch."

There'd be a laugh if she could see, as there is there's a rueful grin that can probably be heard in her voice.

"Sorry," she says. "Force of habit. It's none of my bloody business, I know!"

"No," Leah agrees, moderately cheerfully. "It isn't, but thanks anyway. I take care of myself."

"Sounds like that's a good thing," she says.

Sugar-coating situations has never been the way the Doctor works, after all.

"Seeing as you're going to be stuck with yourself for company until I can figure out where the hell you are."