Sometimes the stakes are bogus, sometimes the fast lane hits a fork.

[nothingsodivine]

Strictly speaking, Des's life has been a bit miserable lately. Granted, if he had any idea of the weeks other people he knows have been having or had any idea of how much worse it may or may not inevitably get, he'd probably have a little more perspective on how miserable miserable can really be

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[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor is lounging on the couch, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. It's not that the ceiling is particularly interesting or that it holds any of the solutions to his problems, but he needs something to stare at while he tries to sort out the Kashtta Rift, and the ceiling is nice and not distracting. The cat is curled on his chest.

He blinks at the sound of Des' voice, though, shakes his head and props himself up on one elbow to look over the back of the couch. The cat slides off him and to the floor, whistling grumpily at being disturbed. "Do you always do that when you come home?"

But he sounds happy, so that's new and good.

[nothingsodivine]

"No, I don't," Des grins, gesturing to the Doctor with his folder. "Just when I have good news and need to share it. He draws a bit closer, grinning like a child on Christmas, which is quite a fierce contrast to his former attitude. "And the cause for my good news is that I have just found someone who might make so many problems go away for everyone who finds themselves sorrowfully Rift-displaced."

He taps the folder thoughtfully, "At the moment though, it's just me. As of today, I officially exist in this world, thanks to a very nice forger. Angel of Knowledge too. Not what you expect. Kinda like a restrained Dmitri... Or not, really, because Dmitri is in a whole 'nother class. I met her, by the way. Nice kid- real cute. I got an interview with her later." His excited and rambling, but he holds out a palm, quickly getting a hold of himself again. "Anyway, having an identity now isn't even the best part."

He gives the Doctor an eager look as if saying, 'Come on. You wanna know what the best part is. I know you do.'

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor has never seen much need for having an identity anywhere, but then... he's the Doctor. Also, he has psychic paper. But Des is happy about it, so he's not about to just shrug this off. This is a Good Thing. Anything that could get Des to smile recently is a good thing.

The Doctor does pauses a moment, wondering if Des will go on if he waits long enough or if he's really going to have to say... Yes, apparently he is. "What's the best part?" he asks, with mock enthusiasm but an actual genuine smile, leaning forward against the back of the couch with his chin resting on crossed arms.

[nothingsodivine]

Des is ridiculously thrilled. Other than Pagiel and his car, his old business is what he misses most about his own world. Granted, he may have to stoop to petty investigating on top of the supernatural aspects, but this is HUGE. And a great step into getting him something to do rather than lay about all the time.

"I got a building. It's a little low-key, kinda worn down, but it's MINE, and I'll eventually be able to pay it off. Ms. Dalton- that's the angel- got me a great deal on it. I'm going to turn into my very own Private Investigating firm."

He grins manically. THIS IS A GREAT THING. FEEL HIS HAPPY.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor's grin brightens at that, and he bounces back off the couch so he can circle around it. "And what possibly illegal thing did you do to get this building?" Not like the forgeries themselves aren't slightly illegal, or like the Doctor doesn't occasionally flaunt local laws, but... you know. That's different.

"Still, you'll actually have something to do around here! That's good!" Believe us, Des, the Doctor is a lot more happy for you than he's letting on.

[nothingsodivine]

"Just a minor debt to some mafia goons, probably. No big deal. I got it cheap and I'll pay it back, no sweat." He assumes it's mafia goons and he assumes it's money, but Bambi Dalton was an Angel of Knowledge and it's probably not in her nature to set him up for a blood debt or whatever. Riiight?

Right.

Des understands this and sort of responds by gleefully hugging the Doctor, because... He is just that happy. A PI FIRM. Where he can investigate things. God, it's like being useful again.

"I know," he says, excitedly. "It'll be awhile before I can actually get the damn thing up and running, but it'll be up before long and then I can actually do things!"

Important things!

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor will never say no to a hug from one of his friends. Well, maybe not never, but it takes some serious Ancient and Forever Angst, which is not happening right now. He throws his arms around Des and hugs him tightly - which would be enough to lift Martha or even Rose off the ground, but Des is a good deal bigger and more solid than them. "Just don't get yourself killed doing it. Martha would be upset, I'd imagine. And as I understand it, dying was sort of a habit for you the last time you did this."

[nothingsodivine]

Des pulls away and gives the Doctor a 'Oh puh-leeze' look. "It wasn't that much of a habit."

It happened almost every major case, but let's not point fingers.

"Mostly," he adds, as if that thought has suddenly occured to him. He claps the Doctor on the shoulder and crosses over to the couch to sit down, still holding his folder in his lap. "I gotta get Martha down to this forger. I bet we can get her a job at a hospital too if she ever gets sick of playing house." He shoots the Doctor a wry look. "And I don't suppose we have to worry about you finding things to keep yourself entertained."

[thatsortofaman]

"I think I'll manage," the Doctor says with a bit of a smirk. "Rifts, ghosts, Torchwood... what's not entertaining about that?" Also unsettling and more than a little bothersome, but that's something he doesn't have to tell Des about. Not his problem. "You don't think a hospital's a bit... ordinary for her?"

Then, the Doctor has a hard time seeing Martha in anything approaching an ordinary life. And he'd recommended her to UNIT before he fell through, but obviously that doesn't help in this universe... Though it's not as if playing house with Desmond Descant, John Smith, Cassandra in Rose's body and a whistling cat creature is... well... that far from ordinary. Relatively speaking.

[nothingsodivine]

"I don't know. Maybe she'd like it. That or she can get a job at one of those supernaturally-initiated hospitals. I bet they see a lot of weird." Des flips through his folder and holds a piece of paper up to the light as if he's examining it thoroughly, looking for any sign of it being a fake.

"Speaking of weird things, did you ever go up to the attic to face the flesh-eating darkness?" He asks, absently, still staring at the paper.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor steps around Des to start for the kitchen so he can poke around in it for food. He's not really hungry. Sometimes food is just a good distraction.

"Oh, right, that! Vashta Nerada." He says that like it's all the explanation necessary. Or maybe just so Des will have to ask him to explain and he can feel superior. You never know.

[nothingsodivine]

Des almost doesn't ask, because he knows that asking will make the Doctor far too happy and sometimes he likes to tease him like that, but he's in a good mood.

"Vashta Nerada," he repeats in a mildly mocking tone. "Golly gee whiz, Professor, what are they?" He turns towards the kitchen and just grins in the Doctor's general direction.

Oh boys.

[thatsortofaman]

Well, the Doctor hasn't been called Professor in a long time. For a moment, he blinks, quirking an eyebrow at Des, and then goes back to searching through the fridge. "Vashta Nerada. Translates to 'the shadows that melt the flesh'." He locates a jar of jam, which apparently is a suitable substitute for actual food, and then turns around to face Des.

"Exist on almost every planet, feeding off carrion... in small enough numbers that's usually all they can manage. Stick to the shadows. Get them in large enough groups, though, and they'll eat any meat they can get. Strip the flesh right off the bones. That instinctive fear of the dark? That's their fault. Now, why they're in our attic... probably the Rift. Not enough to kill you, though, just give you a bit of a rash, assuming you don't stay up there too long. I wouldn't worry too much about them."

[nothingsodivine]

Des wonders vaguely if maybe he should call the Doctor on the whole 'our attic' thing, but he's being a kind, caring sort and is just going to pretend he didn't hear that and go back to studying his paperwork.

"Great, so now we have pet alien shadows in the attic. We get anymore freakish animals around here, we can start a menagerie."

And that reminds him of something... He didn't really want to think about it, but he should probably point it out.

"We have a new houseguest. Girl named Cecily. I don't know if you've seen her yet, but I figure I should warn you anyway. Hopefully, she won't take up residence in John's closet, but you never know. Narnia might be in John's closet for all I know."

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor blinks a little, and pauses a moment to consider that as he scoops a bit of jam out of the jar - yes, with his finger - and puts it in his mouth. He considers asking if Des just meets random girls on the street and brings them home as a matter of course, but it actually occurs to him that would be a bit hypocritical.

"Why would she take up residence in John's closet? Is that something we're doing now?"

[nothingsodivine]

Des figures something might ought to be said about eating jam that way, but he's the sort who drinks milk out of the carton when he can, so really all he manages is a slightly amused, "When your fingers stick to everything after you get finished with that, I'm going to laugh."

He goes back to his papers, chuckling a little. "Well, the cat-beast hid under his bed and word on the street is April slept in his closet for a little while before she went back home, so apparently it's a thing. Although I actually haven't seen Cecily since I brought her home, so she might be hiding in John's closet."

Or she might be a fox under the couch. Either/or.