◤ JONES.

Martha didn’t say anything about the definite tone in the other woman’s voice. She could hardly blame her. This was bloody awful. Smelly. Cold. Wet. With the Doctor nowhere to be found… I’ll throttle him next time I see him. Martha leaned back against the stone wall of the cell and let out a sigh. She needed to think through the problem. Logical solutions, careful planning. Trouble was - Amy was right. The guard had the keys. And they were out of any obvious solutions. She puffed out a frustrated breath before sitting up again.

“Well, we’ve just gotta get the guard back here, yeah? For a start…Some kind of diversion?” she said. It was grasping for straws, but… they’d just about reached the end of their options. 

SHE SIGHS, her head lolling towards martha, hands around her knees as she RECLINES against the wall. Her eyes shift, as she bites her lip and knits her eyebrows frustratedly. SUDDENLY- she sits up, struck by an idea that has a 50/50 chance of working COULD WORK.

EYES WIDEN, unsure, unfocused, but HEY- it’s better than not trying at all right? She jumps, looking dazed at the gate that stands between them and their freedom. She speaks, not LOOKING at her cell mate, but instead at the rusted, iron bars.

“okay- got an idea, sorta stupid,  but we’ve just gotta get the guard here, yeah? dunno what we’ll do after that- but we’ll work it out from there, okay? just
           ——————————–FOLLOW MY LEAD.” 

SHE RUNS, straight at the bars, clutching them tightly, whips her head back to look at martha-

“ get ready to start RETCHING. “

-before rattling them HARD, as if ever she didn’t she’d die, ( which REALLY, she might. ) and then SCREAMS loudly, panic colouring her voice.

” OY -GET ME OUT OF HERE !!! SHE’S SICK !! CHRIST– SHE COULD HAVE THE PLAGUE- GET ME OUT OF HERE, PLEASE !! “