And I've been putting out fire with gasoline...
Des leaves work around the time he finishes his conversation with Martha, looking like the sort of person who has just received news that the Apocalypse is going to occur within two weeks... Honestly, it's not that far from the truth. He'll concern himself with Jack Fucking Harkness and all his relevant identities later, however. He has a Doctor to
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Or, more accurately, circled the house until she found an open window on the second floor and ducked in, and then followed the sounds of Des until she could land on his shoulder. Public transit is nice, but it's slow, and even dipping into her stipend to pay a cab leaves her dealing with traffic. This is a more direct approach, and when it comes to the House of the Disaster-Prone, she has a feeling that urgency trumps decency.
Once she has a good grip on Des's shoulder, she tilts her head at him and tries to get her syrinx working the way she wants it to.
"Trrrrrrenchkut."
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The Doctor is probably going to bite his fingers off when he gets him out of that ball. Des is willing to take that risk.
To Dmitri, he says, "I've got a robe or something upstairs you can borrow upstairs." Plus upstairs has the benefit of not being a place Doctors in ferretballs can get to easily.
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She glances down at the Doctor in the ferretball, tilting her head to get a better view of him. Dmitri has questions. Oh, so many questions.
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Although at the moment, all he can really do is bump his ferret ball against Des' ankles. Angrily. You can let him out now, Des. Don't you love him?
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He considers for a moment, and then nods, having absolutely no intention of doing as Des says. Come on, the Doctor won't even stay where he's put when he's capable of higher reasoning. You think he's going to start now?
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"Yeah, I think I'm smarter than you give me credit for, Doctor."
Down goes the ferretball, and, on that note, he's going to head upstairs now.
It's for your own good, Doctor. Really.
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It's his house. And it's not like it'd save all that much time, all told.
So instead she shifts her weight, adjusts one of her secondary feathers, and looks at Des again. "Norrra ree-surring. Desss."
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He walks over to the closet, pulls out a robe and tosses it over on the bed before turning his back on the bed so Dmitri can shift back.
He waits a few seconds, after which he's not capable of holding it in any longer and blurts, "Jack Harkness turned himself into Vincent Sterling. He wants to be tried as a war criminal."
Yeah, way to get right out with it, Des. They danced around the subject too long downstairs. It was bound to come out like this.
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Actually, she's wondering if she might be happier if she hadn't.
There's a less-than-dignified squawk (this from her mostly-human form) as she gets her arms into sleeves and pulls the robe closed, fastening it with a knot more appropriate for keeping boats tethered to shorelines than tying robe belts. Then she darts in front of Des, holding up a finger.
"Okay, you're gonna have to say that once more to the working set of ears with the rational brain attached, and when you say it, I want you to say it in a way that makes some fucking sense. Because I'm sure I didn't hear what I'm sure I just heard."
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He swallows. "As far as I know, word hasn't hit the journals yet, and I don't think it will until Martha's sure we can get the Doctor to stop being a ferret, which he will never do if he hears about this." He groans, rubbing his head. "I didn't wanna drop this on your head, but better you hear it now, from me, than when Martha informs the universe of what the hell just happened."
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And... stares a bit more.
Blinks. She knew the Jack back in her own world. Never had any encounter with him here until running into Thane, and the less thought about that, the better. But nothing, nothing she knew or had heard pointed to Jack Harkness of any variety as the sort who'd turn himself in anywhere, after doing his best to dismantle every system of authority he could find. And as for this...
"Christ."
...and it's going to hit the journals.
"Christ, Buddha, Ganesh and Gandhi on a gondola, merciful mother of compassion-" She has a feeling that she's going to be needed in the Kashtta sooner rather than later, if only to make sure Tosh doesn't wind up locked in her room for another three months; she needs to talk to Vincent the moment he has free time, needs to track down the Angels of Knowledge who make this city their area of specialization and see if there's any sort of precedent for this, could stand to track down Martha, odds are better than even that Sam and Gwen won't want to discuss this, and ( ... )
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He follows her to the door, passing her in order to unlock it and throw it open. "..I don't even know. Something to do with the Vesmier and a shapeshifter? We've been trying to get him to change back forever, but he likes it."
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Downstairs, the Doctor may notice when Dmitri comes (metaphorically) flying in, tosses the robe on the couch, plucks up the ferretball, undoes the door in the side, and pulls him out only to hold him at face-height.
Dmitri Lang is calm. Ish. Dmitri Lang can present a compelling case.
"Okay, Doc, here's the sitch: something has happened which may just make Chicago politics do a contortionist act. Best of all, it involves people you know. Congratulations: your pals are making history. In about two minutes I have to be across the city doing that voodoo that I do so well and tracking down every scrap of information, and I'm sure Des will be up to his earlobes in it vis-à-vis Martha, and a ferret is gonna be precisely the least useful thing in all of this. So at this point I think you have two options: you can stay mustelid and wind up in the ball so you're not underfoot, or you can shift to something with a brain capable of ( ... )
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The moment passes, and then he starts squirming. After thinking for a moment, he understood... most of that. But every time he tries to fix things here, they only end up worse, and everyone seems to have been managing just fine without him, so whatever's going on, she can just put him down and be on her way.
He has some keys to steal, now that he's out of the ball.
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And that is very much not a Doctor response.
She pauses a moment, staring at him, and then ducks her head to look him in the eye.
"I'll have you know both of my shifter forms would consider this one a food source," she says.
It... seemed relevant.
She looks back to Des without loosening her grip. Ferrets are squirmy, but she's fairly sure she can catch him if he actually breaks free. "How long has he been a ferret?"
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