April 21 // The Master, OPEN

[lord_and]

Date: April 21, shortly after the early lights-out
Characters: The Master, OPEN
Location: Kitchen
Summary: The Master makes some tea and watches children's television shows, because that's what you do when things get serious. (The finer details of the Master's actual thoughts during this will depend heavily on where this thread goes, so if the

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[phdlancelot]

Sweets was having a hard time adjusting to his new life in space. Not only was he becoming more and more sure, as the days went on, that he was not in a convenient coma-dream or long-term hallucination but really, truly, impossible in space, but it appeared that he had arrived on this colony at a bad time. Gravity was behaving badly, and now the little routines that had been keeping him going were starting to break down. He had expected to have time to grab something to eat before the lights out, but it had come early. He made his way to the kitchen through the dark corridors feeling uncharacteristically glum. He'd been doing his best to hide it from the rest of the inhabitants, but he didn't think there was any danger of running into anyone with this new crisis to deal with.

To his surprise, however, the kitchen wasn't empty. The British man - Cyrus, was it? - the one none of the rest of the crew seemed to like or trust, was making a cup of tea.

"Is there enough water for two cups?" he asked by way of greeting.

[lord_and]

The Master looked over at Sweets distractedly. So this was the man who had so quickly installed himself as their new colony psychologist. He'd done a lot in the past few days and, which would no doubt have won the trust of many of the others. And he hadn't been here long enough to have his own opinions on the Master. He'd make an excellent ally.

He paused the video on his portable. "Help yourself," he said, nodding towards the cupboard that held the mugs.

[phdlancelot]

"Thanks," Sweets said, getting a mug for himself and setting it out on the counter. He went to look at the tea selection and was unduly crushed to see only one option available. Sweets spooned the loose-leaf black tea into the mug with a heavy sigh. Realizing a moment later that he shouldn't be so glum after all, and especially not around someone who had been here for so much longer than himself, he forced himself to stand up straighter and smile, though it was a little rueful.

[lord_and]

It was impossible to miss his efforts to look less bothered. The Master cocked a half-smile, saying "You don't have to fake liking it here, you know," as he poured water into both of the mugs. The aim was to be just civil enough to get him curious and asking questions.

[phdlancelot]

"I know," Sweets said, fishing in the drawers for a spoon and stirring his tea with it idly as it steeped, "I just - I know you guys have been here way longer than me, and I feel like I should at least try to remain a bit professional, when I can. I mean, I can't exactly help with the technology or the space-related things, so I might as well not be a burden when it comes to morale."

He relaxed a little, eased just by this tiny moment of being able to unburden himself. "Are you from England?" he asked.

[lord_and]

"You'll drive yourself mad doing that in a place like this," the Master said quite honestly. It wasn't that he was particularly concerned for Sweets' sanity; it was more of a warning than anything else, but a little casual concern looked good as well.

"I'm not from England originally, but I'm here by way of it," he replied, dodging the question mostly out of habit. Thinking better of it, however, because psychologists liked honesty, he added, "I'm actually not from Earth at all." The direct route was always a gamble with humans, but the rumour mill was so small on this colony it was more of a risk to be dishonest.

[phdlancelot]

Sweet's interest perked up - this man had extra experience with space, in that case. It didn't even cross the psychologist's mind that the man might be of an alien race that exactly resembled humanity. No, he simply jumped to the conclusion that the Master was a human from an off-world colony, who had visited the Earth and England, perhaps grown up there part of his life, or had parents from there, and who was now stuck here like Sweets.

"I don't think I've introduced myself," he realized, suddenly, "I'm Dr. Lance Sweets."

[lord_and]

"Cyril," he said, putting down his mug and offering his hand. The alias was wearing thin at this point, but this was exactly the sort of situation he needed it for.

[phdlancelot]

"Good to meet you," Sweets said warmly, smiling and shaking the man's hand. It was pleasant being able to make conversation, even in the dark, with the heat of the station well above what Sweets considered comfortable. He tried to sip the tea, burned his lip, and set it back down on the counter.

"What did you do before you were brought here?" he asked.

[lord_and]

"A little of this, a little of that. I did a lot of travelling, like any expat," he said, settling on the basic, unelaborated truth. It occurred to him then that another truth, one he wasn't likely to look back on with fondness again, might put the psychologist on the right track, trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the opinion the other colonists had. "Recently, not long before I was brought here, I was working on a different colony as a kind of freelance rocket scientist."

[phdlancelot]

Well, that was certainly more impressive than Sweets had been imagining. It wasn't that Cyril gave the impression of being unintelligent - he was clearly quite clever - but something about him seemed more average than Sweets would expect of a rocket scientist. He laughed a little in surprise, leaning against the counter and saying, "Really? Man, that's awesome!"

[lord_and]

He laughed, short and brief, then took a sip of his tea. "I've had better jobs."

"And you were a psychiatrist?" he asked, making the obligatory switch to conversation about the other person involved in the conversation. "But obviously not for a place as out-of-balance as this."

[phdlancelot]

"A psychologist, yes, with the FBI," Sweets said, unable to stop himself correcting the Master just a little bit. "And I wouldn't say it was much more balanced than this. Just not, you know, in space."

He stirred the tea once more, happy to talk about himself to an interested audience. "I was working with the forensic anthropology unit in the Jeffersonian, helping them to profile killers and victims and solve homicides." Normally, if this had been an interrogation, he would have been able to notice himself being led, but he didn't apply the same sort of scrutiny to his everyday interactions. It was something he'd always tried not to do. There was a difference between being someone's friend and their therapist. The two were not meant to mix.

"So it's been a little less gruesome up here than I'm used to. A nice break, actually. I just wish I could be more of a help, especially with the computer malfunctioning..."

[lord_and]

The Master raised an eyebrow. So he was a criminal profiler. They'd make a great pair: criminal mind and criminal curiosity. It was almost a shame that he'd have to convince him that that wasn't the case, but he'd have enough of that dynamic from the Doctor without adding another doctor to the mix.

"You buried a man in our recycler and that's less gruesome than usual, is it?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

"The computer isn't malfunctioning," he corrected, almost without thinking. "There's an imbalance in the two-asteroid system, and the system can't compensate correctly for it."

[phdlancelot]

"Yes, much less. I'll admit, it's certainly a sad commentary on my normal life," Sweets said with a small smile. It was true, however, he lived a morbid life, working with people who examined rotting and dismembered corpses on a day to day basis. The murderers he'd helped to catch were, quite frankly, an unusually sick batch.

"Ah. My mistake." Sweets shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was uncomfortable with not understanding so much. He'd been the smartest person in the room for too long in his life, and he wasn't used to the feeling of being useless. He had never minded Dr. Brennan teasing him about psychology being useless because he knew it wasn't, from personal and professional experience. If she needed to deny that for her own reasons, that didn't bother him. But being here where his skills were really of little use was jarring. "Anything I can do to help fix it?"

[lord_and]

The Master waved his hand dismissively. "No mistake. Everyone else had it mostly wrong as well, but as you probably noticed they wouldn't let me do anything about it." Yes, he was bitter, though he sounded much more bitter than he was. In truth, he didn't mind waiting as it made the eventual solution more challenging, and he'd been perfectly satisfied to spend the last few days tinkering on his own.