Just at that moment, on perfect cue, the police box door popped open and the Doctor leaned out of it. The smoke had gone and he'd changed his clothes -- all leather and boots, like he'd just walked off an 80's film set. "Sorry, but did I hear someone say a trash bin [i]moved[/i] on its own?" He looked between Rose and Mickey with a curious and slightly concerned furrow of his brows -- but his eyes fixed on Rose and he smiled in recognition.

"Hello again!" He stepped forward and offered his hand. "So this is your bedroom is it? Very nice, love the teddies. But sorry about barging in like this," he gestured at the box behind him, "the TARDIS has been acting a little wonky lately, I've completely lost the steering, she won't be dematerializing anytime soon." He tipped his head in greeting. "I'm the Doctor by the way, how d'ya do, wots your name?"

He noticed Mickey, and he turned away from Rose with a bright grin and grabbed the boy's hand. "Hullo, I'm the Doctor, pleasure ta meet you. We're in London aren't we?" he asked of them both. "Twentieth century? No -- twenty-[i]first[/i], yes, fantastic, twenty-first century Britain, I love it, all you Londoners with your cellphones and telly and chips and have you got anything to eat I'm [i]famished[/i]," he asked this of Rose, meekly, and he gave her an apologetic grin.

"But!" He turned suddenly toward Mickey and gave him a look of intense curiosity and possibly grave importance. He wasn't quite sure yet whether there was anything very important, but strange things tended to end up being important when they happened where he happened to be. "Tell me then, what was it you were saying about movin' trash bins?"