"There's no such thing as a true 'second chance'," Robin agreed, getting up and going to the back of the bar. Hmm...martinis. He wanted martinis. As he mixed his drink, he shook his head ruefully. "You don't get to re-do anything. Ever. It's done, it's over, you have to move on. But these humans don't get it. I mean, take me for example. I can afford to spend some time pissing and moaning about something. What's a few months to me? A few years, even? Nothing." He snapped his fingers dismissively. "Like a beat of a heart, a maiden's sigh - here, gone, nothing. But to a human, a few months could be a lifetime, and yet they waste it. Just...idiots, the entire lot of them." Shaking the martini, Robin then poured it into a glass. Not bothering to garnish it, he downed it quickly and then proceeded to make another.
"Yes, Lily Evans. You know her?" Another drink finished and consumed and the Puck began again. "Batshit crazy. Good girl, wouldn't kick her out of bed...well, ever," a faint shadow of a leer crossed his face before he sighed. "Strong, stubborn, hell of a woman. I'd hit that, no hesitation. But she's so damn idealistic. So wrapped up in the notion she can change people, change the fucking world." In truth, Lily - and people like her - baffled the Puck. But they also had the tendency to pull him in with their 'notions'; and that made him wonder. He'd survived as long as he had by keeping his nose clean, and yet people like this Lily tugged at him, made him willing to risk so much for their 'causes'. Bah. He was getting soft in his old age. Grabbing a bottle of tequila, a bowl of limes, and another of salt, Robin picked up his third martini and made his way back to his seat.
"They're worse now than when they were swinging from trees, brandishing sticks. Fighting wars - over drugs, territory, crime, fashion. It's become a part of their fucking vocabulary. They kill each other - lifespans of less than a century and they kill each other. If they didn't procreate like damn rabbits, they'd never have made it out of the woods." A sharp flash in his eyes and Robin, for a moment, didn't look like a handsome young man. He looked Puckish and ancient. "They overwhelmed us, destroyed the world in a choking tide of filth, and regulated us to the monsters under their beds. Arrogant, insolent, ignorant race." Violently tossing back the last of his martini, he savagely twisted open the tequila and poured himself a generous portion.
"Now, see," the Doctor replied after gulping down one of his drinks thoughtfully, "that sounds fairly familiar. You know...time used to be so stable. Nope, couldn't change it, was unheard of. And now, hey, I'll bend to the whims of some stupid little nineteen-year-old girl who wanted to see her father before he died when she was just a baby. Wanna know what happened with that?" The bottles couldn't be emptied fast enough, grabbing this one and that and mixing a few various other items into whatever the hell he was making (not that he would've known what it was if one had asked him--just an attempt at making something so potent that it would knock him out with a whiff. Not that that was going to happen). "She flinched. Ran away. Couldn't watch her old man die, and then you know what she did? She asked me for a second chance. Oh, now, me, hell, I'm all about second chances, really. Rather give some incredibly evil force in the universe a chance to right itself rather than make sure it doesn't exist outright or somesuch. But why I ever let her have a second chance is beyond me. Soft and cowardly, that's what I am, apparently. Oh, and then she almost destroyed the world there since she went and mucked it all up, tried to save her dad, things went to hell in a handbasket from there. I was this close, this close to just leaving her behind in her happy little world she'd made."
Irritated, he slammed an empty bottle down on the bar, it making a sharp bang of a sound. It was a wonder it didn't shatter. "They want everything. They want to live forever, know everything, cure everything, make everything better, but what's better? By whose definition of 'better' are we going by? They think the universe should do everything for them instead of getting up off their arses and doing something. Oh, they think that everyone's against them, those little apes wondering why everything has it out for them. They ought to be grateful they even exist, but no, they don't want to do the improving, they just sit around waiting for it to happen. They don't think of the consequences, and they're pretty damn high when things go wrong. They don't think; they're careless; they're stupid, and before they know it, there goes the planet; there goes their home, right up in..." He paused and shook his head, taking a long draw from what he'd made up. His voice lowered from the growl, the near yell it had become. "Right up in flames. They get one shot. That's almost more than they deserve at this rate."
He pushed a few bottles aside and hopped up onto the bar itself. Wouldn't do to stand while getting drunk lest he stumble around and look stupid. Which wasn't to say that he wouldn't anyway once he did get drunk (oh, he could certainly feel the effects now starting), but it at least reduced the chances of, say, falling over or tripping over his own feet. "Now, Lily, she's a fine woman, yeah. I don't know. Sometimes it's the idealism that I like most about Humanity. They've got so much potential that they just squander. I like her, though. Sort of...sort of like a best friend kind of thing, yeah? I mean...she's got a great sense of humour, even if her taste in men isn't. Bright, very bright. And strong. I've always meant to invite her to tea. But, instead, sitting here with you. And alcohol. Better than lying around, staring at the stars and pondering existence. In fact, she's sort of tried to give me a bit of dating advice before."
He laughed in-between sips. "More or less. Ah, I've made a whole mess of things with my friends. ...Heh, you know, a reason they'd love us and cling to us, oh we of longevity, is that it makes them feel safe." Shaking his head, he said, "I think that we make them feel safe, with our...wisdom and age and hope or...something. I don't even know. That we can protect them because we know so much more than they do, and if we care about them, we can protect them for the rest of their lives. But they're not. It's not safe. Never safe. I tell them that, you know, when they want to come along--it's dangerous, liable to get yourself killed. I told Rose that--that girl I said about before, with her dad. I'm not god or anything. Things happen. Bad things happen. People get hurt and killed. But no, they think that's just fine and hop along anyway. I think they feel safe, and I know they're anything but. It'd be a lot better if they didn't even know me. I've been nothing but bad luck for them, and now they're all hurt and offended and angry and--god, I made Sarah Jane cry fighting with Jack, and she just doesn't know me anymore. Change my face, change my personality, and she tried to give me a chance, but no, now I've frightened her off. And she was so happy to show us her ring. She's getting married, and then I made her cry, and I scare her, and she thinks she doesn't know me anymore. Said we were cowards. Said we deserved to be alone. And she's right." No, he wasn't trying to drown himself in his glass, whatever would give that impression, the way he was chugging it down?
"Yes, Lily Evans. You know her?" Another drink finished and consumed and the Puck began again. "Batshit crazy. Good girl, wouldn't kick her out of bed...well, ever," a faint shadow of a leer crossed his face before he sighed. "Strong, stubborn, hell of a woman. I'd hit that, no hesitation. But she's so damn idealistic. So wrapped up in the notion she can change people, change the fucking world." In truth, Lily - and people like her - baffled the Puck. But they also had the tendency to pull him in with their 'notions'; and that made him wonder. He'd survived as long as he had by keeping his nose clean, and yet people like this Lily tugged at him, made him willing to risk so much for their 'causes'. Bah. He was getting soft in his old age. Grabbing a bottle of tequila, a bowl of limes, and another of salt, Robin picked up his third martini and made his way back to his seat.
"They're worse now than when they were swinging from trees, brandishing sticks. Fighting wars - over drugs, territory, crime, fashion. It's become a part of their fucking vocabulary. They kill each other - lifespans of less than a century and they kill each other. If they didn't procreate like damn rabbits, they'd never have made it out of the woods." A sharp flash in his eyes and Robin, for a moment, didn't look like a handsome young man. He looked Puckish and ancient. "They overwhelmed us, destroyed the world in a choking tide of filth, and regulated us to the monsters under their beds. Arrogant, insolent, ignorant race." Violently tossing back the last of his martini, he savagely twisted open the tequila and poured himself a generous portion.
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Irritated, he slammed an empty bottle down on the bar, it making a sharp bang of a sound. It was a wonder it didn't shatter. "They want everything. They want to live forever, know everything, cure everything, make everything better, but what's better? By whose definition of 'better' are we going by? They think the universe should do everything for them instead of getting up off their arses and doing something. Oh, they think that everyone's against them, those little apes wondering why everything has it out for them. They ought to be grateful they even exist, but no, they don't want to do the improving, they just sit around waiting for it to happen. They don't think of the consequences, and they're pretty damn high when things go wrong. They don't think; they're careless; they're stupid, and before they know it, there goes the planet; there goes their home, right up in..." He paused and shook his head, taking a long draw from what he'd made up. His voice lowered from the growl, the near yell it had become. "Right up in flames. They get one shot. That's almost more than they deserve at this rate."
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He laughed in-between sips. "More or less. Ah, I've made a whole mess of things with my friends. ...Heh, you know, a reason they'd love us and cling to us, oh we of longevity, is that it makes them feel safe." Shaking his head, he said, "I think that we make them feel safe, with our...wisdom and age and hope or...something. I don't even know. That we can protect them because we know so much more than they do, and if we care about them, we can protect them for the rest of their lives. But they're not. It's not safe. Never safe. I tell them that, you know, when they want to come along--it's dangerous, liable to get yourself killed. I told Rose that--that girl I said about before, with her dad. I'm not god or anything. Things happen. Bad things happen. People get hurt and killed. But no, they think that's just fine and hop along anyway. I think they feel safe, and I know they're anything but. It'd be a lot better if they didn't even know me. I've been nothing but bad luck for them, and now they're all hurt and offended and angry and--god, I made Sarah Jane cry fighting with Jack, and she just doesn't know me anymore. Change my face, change my personality, and she tried to give me a chance, but no, now I've frightened her off. And she was so happy to show us her ring. She's getting married, and then I made her cry, and I scare her, and she thinks she doesn't know me anymore. Said we were cowards. Said we deserved to be alone. And she's right." No, he wasn't trying to drown himself in his glass, whatever would give that impression, the way he was chugging it down?
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