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Summary
The Toymaker leans in. The Doctor’s head thunks against the door as he jerks back on instinct, but all the Toymaker does is inhale deeply through his nose. Is he smelling him?
“Yes,” the Toymaker murmurs, confirming a question the Doctor isn’t privy to. “I wondered.”
“Wondered what?”
“It was harder to tell the first time around. You stank too much of Gallifrey and its cloying logic.” The Toymaker doesn’t hide his sneer. He’s dropped the motley of accents and settled on English, just like the first time they met. Perhaps he mirrors the people around him, or maybe it’s a personal preference. The Doctor is certainly guilty of the latter.
“Tell what?” The Doctor asks. He doesn’t like the way the Toymaker’s eyes are glittering.
“You’re one of us.”