Micropolis - Arrival

A janitorial closet.
It is small and cramped and full of numerous boxes and shelves and weirdly-shaped gadgets and tools. And a broom jammed down into a bucket that's far too small for it.
A strange whirring, grinding sound is coming from somewhere unknown.
Suddenly, a faint image of a British police call box appears in a clear spot on the floor of the closet.
The TARDIS.
An acronym which stands for Time and the Relative Dimensions in Space.
Because this out-of-place telephone booth is actually a time machine. A Gallifreyan model type-40 time machine, to be precise.
And there's barely enough room for it inside this packed closet that's literally packed to the walls with old boxes and buckets and brooms.
But the ghostly image grows slowly stronger and stronger and the peculiar humming sound continues until the machine has completed it's out-of-space-and-time manifestation process.
A moment when nothing happens.
Then--
A door on the front of the TARDIS opens and a tall, frazzled-looking middle-aged man steps out. He's wearing a long brown overcoat, a striped scarf colored every color of the rainbow, and a wide-brimmed hat. His hair is brown and curly. His eyes are wide and bulging. And he has a mischievous grin that makes anyone that sees him wonder what it is that he is thinking about.
A moment later a younger woman emerges after him. She's wearing a white dress as if she's planning on going to a fancy ballroom dance. Her hair is straight and long and dark blonde, though her face is very plain her eyes are bright and she moves with a regal air and intelligent purpose.
"Oh not again, Doctor," she said to him, in a weary tone. "We've been in transit for barely an hour of subjective time and already you want to stop and have a look around. You say you're not looking for anything but I suspect you're looking for trouble outright!"
The man grinned a grin that was even more mischievous than the one he had on a moment before. Then he turned to look into her eyes directly before speaking.
"Romana, my dear, I'm afraid you have it all backwards and inside out. Or maybe it's frontwards and rightside in, or upside down and facing away in embarrassment at the feel of clammy hands where they shouldn't be at all. Whichever it is I can't say for sure." He paused for a moment. "Either way," he continued, "it's not trouble I'm looking for I'm looking for a man. A being. A masculine entity whose name is Dalen Rax. He's a prince and a rascal and once he was the ruler of this city."
"What city?" she asked.
"Why the city that surrounds this very closet that we're in, of course."
"I see."
"There's an urgent matter I must discuss with him before it's too late. Before time runs out."
"That's two cliche phrases in one sentence, Doctor! Shame on you."
"Yes, shame-shame on me I agree but sometimes cliches are true and it is true that I must speak with him before it's too late."
"Too late for what?"
"No time for that now, Romana." He glanced around the closet that was around them in turn. "And if we wait any longer it looks like there will be no space for it either!"
He pushed his way through the boxes towards the door and grabbed the handle -- managing to clear enough space to open it partway. Then he stepped through it and turned his head to look back over his shoulder. "Well are you coming or going, Romana? You know it would please me greatly to have the pleasure of your company. As usual."
She thought for a bit.
Sighed.
Shrugged her shoulders.
"No more adventures, Doctor. I'm so tired of having adventures. No one wants so many unexpected surprises all in one day."
"Well, having the other kind of surprises wouldn't make much sense, now would it?" he replied.
She pushed her way towards the door and they both left, Romana pulling the door closed behind them.