(no subject)
Who: The Master, the Doctor, Jenny and possibly Captain Jack Harkness
What: CONFRONTATION
When: April 29, evening
Where: The Master's flat, Building 7, floor 7
Summary: The Master took out some of his fury at being experimented on on Jack. By experimenting on him and killing him a lot of times. The Doctor was not very pleased by this. So he's come to complain. Jenny is there to make sure he doesn't do anything stupider than what he's already doing.
Rating: R. THANKS, MASTER.
The Master is standing at the sink of his kitchen, washing the blood off of his scalpels and knives. He'd really like to have some sort of steriliser. That could come in useful, probably. When he does this again.
Oh, and he feels so much better, now. He's dissected a couple of wings and burned the rest of them and ripped up the carpet in the other flat and burned that too. And then after running out of things to burn and analyse, he'd ended up here, no closer to any sort of solution than before.
Grabbing a towel from the side, he wipes the blades clean and puts the scalpels away into his pocket in a case, following them up with the knife, which he has a scabbard for. That done, he dries his hands and ends up sitting at the kitchen table, leaning onto it with his forearms and staring at the opposite wall, thinking. He needs a new plan.
What: CONFRONTATION
When: April 29, evening
Where: The Master's flat, Building 7, floor 7
Summary: The Master took out some of his fury at being experimented on on Jack. By experimenting on him and killing him a lot of times. The Doctor was not very pleased by this. So he's come to complain. Jenny is there to make sure he doesn't do anything stupider than what he's already doing.
Rating: R. THANKS, MASTER.
The Master is standing at the sink of his kitchen, washing the blood off of his scalpels and knives. He'd really like to have some sort of steriliser. That could come in useful, probably. When he does this again.
Oh, and he feels so much better, now. He's dissected a couple of wings and burned the rest of them and ripped up the carpet in the other flat and burned that too. And then after running out of things to burn and analyse, he'd ended up here, no closer to any sort of solution than before.
Grabbing a towel from the side, he wipes the blades clean and puts the scalpels away into his pocket in a case, following them up with the knife, which he has a scabbard for. That done, he dries his hands and ends up sitting at the kitchen table, leaning onto it with his forearms and staring at the opposite wall, thinking. He needs a new plan.