Martha managed to shake herself out of reverie in time to only be slightly startled by the girl speaking to her, though not apparently in enough time for the first thing she noticed to be her drink has one of those umbrellas. It was a rather Doctor-y thing to be doing, actually.
If this was due to Weeping Angels, at least this was less dire than 1968, she decided, at least from the clothes people like this girl were wearing, and the music, and the drinks. (Maybe someone had fun living in 1968; Martha Jones had not.)
"Um, look?" she said, and gathered herself. "Oh. I'm sorry, did you say 'try to get back'?" At the desk? Maybe not the damn angels, then, unless they'd suddenly shifted in dropping people to spin out their lives in cocktail parties instead of the out-of-own-time daily grind.
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If this was due to Weeping Angels, at least this was less dire than 1968, she decided, at least from the clothes people like this girl were wearing, and the music, and the drinks. (Maybe someone had fun living in 1968; Martha Jones had not.)
"Um, look?" she said, and gathered herself. "Oh. I'm sorry, did you say 'try to get back'?" At the desk? Maybe not the damn angels, then, unless they'd suddenly shifted in dropping people to spin out their lives in cocktail parties instead of the out-of-own-time daily grind.