The engineer's, ah. What could the Doctor want here? The Fugitive took in the sight of cogs and mechanics - larger than he was used to handling, but still familiar. A smile touched his lips for the briefest of moments, the memory of that night, those moments of perfect stillness as he worked on his masterpiece. The Doctor clutched his bag, asking after a part. What was it?

The Fugitive slipped forward, through the shifting crowd, until he was standing at the Doctor's left. Quietly, almost insidiously, he said, "I would not have taken this for your field of expertise, sir."