Drabble request response #2!
Again, from the request-drabble-meme post thinger!
eleventh-doctor wished for Bossy!Glitch (this is FOREVER late, soz!)
He was fairly certain that this used to be easier. In fact he knew it had been, back when his uniform was perfectly tailored, and his hair fell in neat, crisp waves. Time was he'd just have to puff out his chest and declare, in his most reasonable tone, that he was speaking "on Her Majesty's behalf." Bureaucrats had fled before him, he'd had the authority to snip through red tape and then replace it behind him as suited his whim.
That was merely political wrangling, of course, his lab and workshop had been his true domain. He'd conspired with the laws of nature to get elements to do his bidding, with assistance from his hand-chosen team of apprentices. Ambrose had divided his time between overseeing how the world worked and contriving ways to make it work better.
Now he was overseeing how headcases got looked down on, and contriving how to get his hands on a library book.
Glitch fussed with the tattered cuffs of his old coat, wishing he'd worn the spiffy new one instead. It gave him some level of authority, not that he'd thought he'd need it in this case. Then again it probably wouldn't matter, seeing as the librarian had taken one look at his zipper and dismissed the rest of him out of hand.
"I'm sorry...sir," the man said, with clear implication that he was not sorry at all. "The volume you've requested cannot be made available to you."
"No, no you don't understand," Glitch said. He did his best to keep his voice down, to keep calm, but it was hard fight. "This is my book."
The librarian sighed. "All the books on this premisess belong to the Royal Archive, no one owns-"
"I'm not saying I own it," Glitch cut in. Gods, he could feel the tears prickling, threatening. "I mean I wrote it. That's my name."
"Is it?" the librarian asked, and made a show of picking up the slip of paper with the book's title and author scrawled on it. He raised his eyebrows and stared at Glitch. At Glitch's zipper. "Is it really?"
"Yes," Glitch hissed. "If you..if you could just tell me where it is, I can probably find it on my own."
"Now see here, you," the librarian muttered and set the paper down on the countertop. "Even if by some miracle you could find it I will not be checking it out to you. For one it is exceedingly rare, and for another it goes against all regulations to lend scientifically sensitive books out to felons."
At this, something long buried in Glitch's synapses sparked, crackled, and finally snapped.
"No, see here you," he spat, more than a bit loudly. He drew himself to his full height, puffed out his chest, and looked right down formidable nose at the librarian. "My name is Lord Ambrose Langwe, former chief adviser to Ozma Francesca, and I know damn well the book is exceedingly rare because I made the order to destroy all copies of it. I also know that this library, due to its stubborn and insubordinate staff, did not destroy their copy.
"In light of these facts, and in light of my desire to reclaim something of myself following my unimaginable sacrifice and suffering-" here he pointed straight at the zipper "-I would very much appreciate your cooperation in allowing me to peruse the volume. In fact, if you'd be good enough to accommodate me to my satisfaction, I may even consider allowing you to keep your job. Have I made myself clear?"
The librarian, who was now a great deal more pale and decidedly not looking at the zipper, swallowed hard and nodded. "Y-yes, sir."
"I'm sorry?" Glitch said and cocked his head. "What was that?"
"Yes, your lordship," the librarian said hastily, and added a slight bow to be safe.
"Great!" Glitch enthused with a smile and gave a single sharp nod. "Thank you."
At which point the synapse connection suddenly gave out, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed in a heap before the counter.
*
Glitch woke some time later, and was at once utterly confused. He was sprawled on a musty couch, in a dimly illuminated room which was lined with bookshelves.
"That was a doozy," he muttered and shifted slightly, which brought his attention to the weight on his chest. With a frown he picked up the object, not entirely surprised to discover that it was a book.
It was Modern Metallurgy Of The Outer Zone by Ambrose Langwe, and in the seventh chapter was a brief outline and discussion of the theoretical use of moritanium in the construction of a Sun Seeder.
He sat up and flipped through the pages, frowning intently. "Huh," he remarked, then shrugged and closed the book. "Wonder what I was doing with this."
eleventh-doctor wished for Bossy!Glitch (this is FOREVER late, soz!)
He was fairly certain that this used to be easier. In fact he knew it had been, back when his uniform was perfectly tailored, and his hair fell in neat, crisp waves. Time was he'd just have to puff out his chest and declare, in his most reasonable tone, that he was speaking "on Her Majesty's behalf." Bureaucrats had fled before him, he'd had the authority to snip through red tape and then replace it behind him as suited his whim.
That was merely political wrangling, of course, his lab and workshop had been his true domain. He'd conspired with the laws of nature to get elements to do his bidding, with assistance from his hand-chosen team of apprentices. Ambrose had divided his time between overseeing how the world worked and contriving ways to make it work better.
Now he was overseeing how headcases got looked down on, and contriving how to get his hands on a library book.
Glitch fussed with the tattered cuffs of his old coat, wishing he'd worn the spiffy new one instead. It gave him some level of authority, not that he'd thought he'd need it in this case. Then again it probably wouldn't matter, seeing as the librarian had taken one look at his zipper and dismissed the rest of him out of hand.
"I'm sorry...sir," the man said, with clear implication that he was not sorry at all. "The volume you've requested cannot be made available to you."
"No, no you don't understand," Glitch said. He did his best to keep his voice down, to keep calm, but it was hard fight. "This is my book."
The librarian sighed. "All the books on this premisess belong to the Royal Archive, no one owns-"
"I'm not saying I own it," Glitch cut in. Gods, he could feel the tears prickling, threatening. "I mean I wrote it. That's my name."
"Is it?" the librarian asked, and made a show of picking up the slip of paper with the book's title and author scrawled on it. He raised his eyebrows and stared at Glitch. At Glitch's zipper. "Is it really?"
"Yes," Glitch hissed. "If you..if you could just tell me where it is, I can probably find it on my own."
"Now see here, you," the librarian muttered and set the paper down on the countertop. "Even if by some miracle you could find it I will not be checking it out to you. For one it is exceedingly rare, and for another it goes against all regulations to lend scientifically sensitive books out to felons."
At this, something long buried in Glitch's synapses sparked, crackled, and finally snapped.
"No, see here you," he spat, more than a bit loudly. He drew himself to his full height, puffed out his chest, and looked right down formidable nose at the librarian. "My name is Lord Ambrose Langwe, former chief adviser to Ozma Francesca, and I know damn well the book is exceedingly rare because I made the order to destroy all copies of it. I also know that this library, due to its stubborn and insubordinate staff, did not destroy their copy.
"In light of these facts, and in light of my desire to reclaim something of myself following my unimaginable sacrifice and suffering-" here he pointed straight at the zipper "-I would very much appreciate your cooperation in allowing me to peruse the volume. In fact, if you'd be good enough to accommodate me to my satisfaction, I may even consider allowing you to keep your job. Have I made myself clear?"
The librarian, who was now a great deal more pale and decidedly not looking at the zipper, swallowed hard and nodded. "Y-yes, sir."
"I'm sorry?" Glitch said and cocked his head. "What was that?"
"Yes, your lordship," the librarian said hastily, and added a slight bow to be safe.
"Great!" Glitch enthused with a smile and gave a single sharp nod. "Thank you."
At which point the synapse connection suddenly gave out, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed in a heap before the counter.
*
Glitch woke some time later, and was at once utterly confused. He was sprawled on a musty couch, in a dimly illuminated room which was lined with bookshelves.
"That was a doozy," he muttered and shifted slightly, which brought his attention to the weight on his chest. With a frown he picked up the object, not entirely surprised to discover that it was a book.
It was Modern Metallurgy Of The Outer Zone by Ambrose Langwe, and in the seventh chapter was a brief outline and discussion of the theoretical use of moritanium in the construction of a Sun Seeder.
He sat up and flipped through the pages, frowning intently. "Huh," he remarked, then shrugged and closed the book. "Wonder what I was doing with this."