"Sure, right now," the Doctor said, giving the television set a quick once-over to find the controls on it. Locating and pressing the power button, he turned the television on, pleased to see it was in working order. "There are twenty-four hour news programmes, aren't there? Whether or not it'll pick one up, well... I'd be happy for anything that might tell us the date."

He started fiddling with the channel controls, but channel after channel all the television was showing was static. If he'd had his sonic screwdriver, tuning the set to pick up a station it wouldn't normally would have taken no time at all, but without it... He could start tinkering with the set, but that would take time they might not have. The night was already wearing on, and morning always seemed to sneak up quickly.

The Doctor frowned, trying more channels, but they were just the same as the first few. Fruitless though it was, it had been worth the look. No reception on the television, nothing that he could use to place the date—or even the decaded—in the magazines... They seemed unusually determined to keep the date out of sight, and that alone was worth noting.

He turned off the set and glanced at Dean, first joining the man and then heading for the door. "Or not, I suppose. Ready to move on?"

He opened the door and went through.

[To here]