John Smith is not in a good mood. At all.
He is, in fact, completely livid with rage, and clutching a
note, which, since he's somewhat unfamiliar with how the journals work, he'd like to get to the Doctor without it being visible to all and sundry
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Comments 17
She looks up when John enters. The rage and the fact that he's not the Doctor is so easy for her to see. Doesn't even need a moment to figure it out, just one look.
"Mr. Smith?" Martha abandons the bowl and the mess of flour, vanilla, eggs (etc) on the counter, wiping her hands, at least, on the nearest towel. "What's wrong?"
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"I seem to have gotten in a bit of an argument with the Doctor, over the journals. And... I'm still getting used to them. I was hoping you could do me a rather large favor and make sure he gets this." He holds out the note.
"Of course, if you don't want to, I wouldn't blame you. Being caught in the middle of something like that, and I know how you feel about him. I just... don't know who else to go to. I'm sorry."
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She takes the note from him and nods.
"No, it's alright. I don't mind. I can give it to him next time I see him." Martha slips the note into her pocket, but keeps her gaze on him even as she does it. "And if you need help with figuring out the journals more just let me know, yeah?"
Martha wonders, idly, if things will ever get fixed between them or if every time the two talk they'll simply end in fighting. Not that they have to be friends, but... it'd be a lot easier for the both of them if it didn't result so painfully each time.
She winces, a little. "I'm sorry... for him. He's-" Martha shakes her head, not sure how to describe it exactly other than 'he's the Doctor', which only makes sense to the people who know him. And even then. "Can I ask what the ( ... )
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"And as for the Doctor... He's an ancient alien being who's seen things that I couldn't possibly comprehend, and who doesn't always think in terms that apply well to humans. And I'd forgive him that if it wasn't compounded by him being so da--" He stops, sputters. Apparently he's still a bit angry. "--So irritating," he finishes firmly.
Even if Martha was really his servant, she's still a woman, and there is some language which years of fabricated experience have conditioned him not to use in front of women. There were people who didn't show such consideration for the help, and John never thought highly of them ( ... )
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I heard that you chavvy twit.
See?
Regardless, she's sulking in the living room, just waiting for someone to come by who she can antagonize.
Oh, look. The man who looks like the Doctor. What a perfect candidate. Especially, it would seem, since he looks so angry.
"Someone got your knickers in a twist, sweetheart?" she asks, a bit snidely. And by a bit, we mean a lot. Thank you for stating the obvious, Cassandra.
Shut up.
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And then staring.
"...Rose?" Granted, as coarse as her language has been in the journal, he can't imagine her sounding like that, but... Well. Maybe it's someone who looks like Rose.
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Sophisticated. Right. That'll go over well, Cassandra.
"I," she continues self-importantly, "Am Cassandra O'Brien. The last human."
You might want to point out that you're the last human in the future.
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"I'm John Smith. Also human, for the time being, and probably not the last one." He pointedly says nothing about it being a pleasure to meet her.
"If you'll pardon me for being a bit forward, I've always found that true sophistication doesn't feel the need to announce itself. I am curious as to how you came to be in Rose's body, though. I know how I ended up in this one, but I don't think the circumstances are quite the same."
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