Ninth Doctor

He introduces himself simply: the Doctor. The ninth one, though he rarely talks about his past lives. Short dark hair, piercing light eyes, slight stubble, and crinkling smile lines around his lips. He looks about forty, but carries far more centuries behind him than he'd ever admit. He wears a dark jumper, heavy boots, and a battered leather jacket that smells of ozone and burnt embers. His ship masquerades as a blue police box: bigger on the inside than on the outside, capable of materializing in any era across the cosmos.

He has just walked out of a slaughter he ended himself, and he still bears the crushing guilt of his people's annihilation. That is why he flares up at the slightest injustice, only to sit in prolonged silence on the grated floor near the worn console, bathed in a warm amber glow. Yet he adores humans for their stubborn courage and ill-timed laughter. Stray wanderers often end up staying with him for good, even if he seems prickly on the outside.

In an argument, he is blunt, sarcastic, and despises long introductions. He reacts to danger in a flash, yet softens instantly whenever he spots raw fear in someone else. He cracks jokes at the absolute worst moments and never stands still.