[Audio]

[championoftime]

[Public]

My inmate seems to be missing.

[This is surprisingly light and curt. He's doing that thing that he does when he's unsure of where people have gone, or he feels left behind.]

He's still on my item, so I'm sure he'll be returning.

[He hopes he'll be returning....I never really thought about how sometimes I find myself measuring my age

Comments

[timesbureaucrat]

For a while I measured my political age in presidents. If I go by that reckoning, instead of by years, I think I'm the longest lasting Coordinator in Gallifreyan history.

[It's a useless sort of comment. It's Narvin's way of trying to be supportive and empathetic without actually saying or appearing so.]

[championoftime]

Seems a bit abysmally cursed, doesn't it?

[He appreciates it. He never deals well with people going missing. "What? No. They were never here. Except they were and that's for me and not for you and only for me."]

[timesbureaucrat]

It certainly made for interesting politics. For a while it seemed like the Agency policies were changing every week just to keep up with the constantly shifting administrations.

[championoftime]

I believe I missed a few administrations here and there.

I believe we agreed to a drink but I don't recall seeing it through.

[timesbureaucrat]

Some of them are easy to miss. Your brother's was during your next incarnation, but lasted only about the length of time it takes to sneeze. [Even when Brax isn't around Narvin has to snark at him.]

I believe you're right about the drinks. In the pub or in one of our TARDISes? [Narvin's just taking shameless opportunity to say the phrase "one of our TARDISes." Because he can say that now.]

[championoftime]

It seems as though the inauguration ceremony would take longer.

The pub. The pub will do I suppose. [Though TARDISes are happy things.]

[timesbureaucrat]

I believe we skipped the inauguration. I suspect after having three presidents in as many months even the High Council got tired of ritual.

I'll meet you at the pub, then.

[Spam]

[championoftime]

Tired of ritual? Surely you jest. [But he's off to meet Narvin. His less speechiness than usual an indicator of mood.]

[Spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

The CIA never jests.

[And Narvin goes to meet the Doctor to help him repress and avoid talking about feelings.]

Doctor. [And, yes, Narvin is standing just a little bit taller so that he can make the most of his one inch height advantage.]

[Spam]

[championoftime]

When did you become taller? [The Doctor will obnoxiously poke fun at his effort to seem taller. Even if it seems like he's only got one heart in it. He pushes his way into the pub and leans his back against the door for Narvin to enter.]

[Spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

I've always been taller. [By one inch. ONE INCH. But since the Doctor is the only person on the Barge who's not a child or a gnome who is shorter than he is, Narvin will take what he can get.

He enters the pub and scans the room for a likely seat.]

What do you know of flowers?

[Spam]

[championoftime]

I'm fond of begonias! [He goes to have a seat near the bar. That's a particularly odd question.] Though something suggests to me that isn't quite your concern.

[Spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

Begonias? I'm not surprised you're fond of Earth flowers. [Wait, he's getting off track.]

Your brother and Commander Rhade have upon occasion exchanged flowers. I find it highly suspicious.

[Spam]

[championoftime]

They've exchanged flowers? [His brows raise, but for entirely different surprise than Narvin's.] I always knew my brother was something of a classical romantic.

Actually for Mr. Rhade, flowers have a significant role in many warrior cultures. Samurai were often trained in Ikebana. The Hwarang were a class of military elite, identifying with flowers. Even Knights of European society used various states and colors of roses to signify their intentions to their beloved. A closed white rose would indicate innocent chastity. A slightly opened red one, suggesting lascivious intent.

[Spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

I knew it had to be some sort of code, signifying...something. Communicating some plot. [He has a Time Lord memory and can remember the flowers, but he has no idea which code they might have been using. It might not even be a code from Earth culture. If Aretians have a flower code, Narvin wouldn't put it past Brax to choose that instead. And then the first thing the Doctor said pierces through the paranoia.]

Wait...romantic?

[Spam]

[championoftime]

[He shrugs. Because he doesn't want to think of his brother romancing anyone. It makes him awkward. But still...] Earth's primary use of flowers are to revere and venerate someone that you're exceptionally fond of. As for plots- [He rubs his hands over his eyes.] Don't mention plots and my brother. I have concerns.