“Is that a threat?” The Doctor asks, from the other side of the console. Rose grins, and raises the water gun she’d nicked from the closet in the room with the pool, and levels it at him.
“Do ya like my gun?” she asks in return, and the Doctor’s eyebrows climb into his hairline before he manages to get them under control and his eyes narrow beneath them.
“I’ll have you know,” he begins, taking a step to his left. Rose matches him by moving one step to the right. Between them, the time rotor glows, incandescent blue. “I have won several water fights in my day.” The Doctor brandishes his own water pistol, and Rose can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from her chest.
Compared to her water gun, with it’s additional compartments and pump action, the Doctor’s might as well be a squirt gun. The Doctor isn’t distracted by her laughter, and moves purposefully to his left again, while Rose shuffles to the right.
“To first blood?” Rose asks, knowing she’s closest to the door out of the console room into the rest of the ship, and she barely waits for the Doctor to nod before sprinting for the door, firing wildly behind her as she goes.
Fascinating race, the Weeping Angels. The only psychopaths in the universe to kill you nicely. No mess, no fuss, they just zap you into the past and let you live to death. The rest of your life used up and blown away in the blink of an eye. You die in the past, and in the present they consume the energy of all the days you might have had.