The Workshop Exterior

A cold, utilitarian space outside the workshop’s entrance, marked by the clatter of sheet metal underfoot and the harsh glare of artificial floodlights. The workshop’s double doors stand slightly ajar, casting a sickly yellow rectangle of light onto the cracked concrete, framing the space like a stage for the Bellboy’s departure. The air carries the sharp tang of engine grease and the faint, metallic scent of old amusement rides, overlaid with the chill of a late evening settled into the bones of the place. The Bellboy’s silhouette wavers in the doorway, his voice raw with conflicted emotion, the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet as the Doctor’s party prepares to leave.