Ooh, and she's practical, too! Thing is, while Andrew feels a twinge of hope at the offer, and while he would have loved to accept it about five minutes ago, she's an agent of ROMAC. Or a ward of ROMAC, perhaps, but it still amounts to the same problem:
He can't let her know where the TARDIS is. Or that the TARDIS exists at all, frankly. His secondary option of going to the rebel base is similarly out of the question, and while he could stand to risk himself by letting her in on the location of his home, he won't put James in that danger. Topher's never ratted on them, but him knowing is already too much. He sniffs in another deep breath, feeling suddenly very stuck indeed.
"My flat's in Chelsea," he finally says, deciding it's safe enough to let her know the neighborhood. "But I don't imagine you want to take me that far -- really, I'll be alright on my own. I've got through worse scrapes."
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He can't let her know where the TARDIS is. Or that the TARDIS exists at all, frankly. His secondary option of going to the rebel base is similarly out of the question, and while he could stand to risk himself by letting her in on the location of his home, he won't put James in that danger. Topher's never ratted on them, but him knowing is already too much. He sniffs in another deep breath, feeling suddenly very stuck indeed.
"My flat's in Chelsea," he finally says, deciding it's safe enough to let her know the neighborhood. "But I don't imagine you want to take me that far -- really, I'll be alright on my own. I've got through worse scrapes."