He has to stop himself from laughing at this, and tries to nod solemnly. "Oh, I'd assume so."
At her next comments, however, he actually does laugh. "He used to change his clothes more often, you know. Quite sartorially obsessed, actually. A new outfit every time I saw him. We've traded places, it seems. He does change his shirts, though, doesn't he?" Pathetic that he's noticed, really. Probably very anal of him. "I do like wearing a suit but it's not always practical."
"Very well," he says, walking over to the kitchen, open-concept, still in view. After filling the kettle with water and placing it on the stove to come to a boil, he opens a cupboard and riffles through the tea. Orange Pekoe is boring...Earl Grey even more so... He could go for something a little less common but something common is probably safest. He settles on English Breakfast, eventually, very traditional of him. Very Harold Saxon, even if he doesn't really need to keep up too much of the facade with Rose. The character is comfortable, though, so he feels like he might as well. Taking out two bags and placing them on the counter, he walks back over to Rose and sits in the armchair adjacent to the couch, close to Rose without being on the same surface. It's polite, and calculated. Maybe he'll move later into her visit.
"A new outfit? Really?" For her it's a bit hard to even picture. "Did he have the same face each time?" If he did, she'd really have to ask him about it the next time he slowed down a bit and she caught him. "Well yeah, and ties. And trainers." she informs thinking back on it. But always the same suit. She starts to wonder what he'd look like in something different but then the thought instantly vanishes as quickly as it started. She's not even bothered by it.
She watches him leave and then return to which she smiles at. Her back digs against the couch as she relaxes. "So, um." she begins swaying on her next choice of words. "Your hearts are still beating, right?" She's heard all sorts of terrible things about what happens when one actually dies here but she hopes that he's escaped that.
He nods. "He wasn't regenerating every time I met him." The Master looks down, his eyes going a bit distant for a moment as he remembers. "He was tall with grey curly hair. Was very fond of velvet. Then again, so was I, at the time. No accounting for taste in your youth, I suppose."
"Yes, I'm not 'undead'. Both of them are still going," says the Master, and then adds, flirting a little, "You can check if you like."
Again it's very hard for her mind to even picture. The Doctor with grey hair...Curly? Probably had wrinkles too if she guessed right. "Velvet?" She makes a face at that and then soon erupts with laughter at the mental image that suddenly pops into her head. "Reckon you two would've been very hip in the 70s."
"Can I?" she asks as her eyes light up. She really does want to so that it clears one worry and--She's up before another thought can cram through approaching the armchair slowly, reaching him and leaning down. She hesitates for a moment, her dark eyes remaining on him but then her right hand's lightly pressed against his right heart. Still beating. The same hand slides across the fabric of the jumper to go for his left heart. All the while her own beats just a little bit faster.
"I was cutting edge in the 70s, I'll have you know," the Master says, mock offended. "Though the Doctor was a century out of date, pretty much consistently every time I met him. The look he has now is...new, in more than one way."
The Master watches Rose as she places her hand on his chest, watches her face rather than looking down, his eyes amber and clear. Heartbeats mirroring the drums in his head and he likes what he's done to Rose. Probably, he could have had her here even without the mind-control but as that's his favourite part... Oh, and he still needs to repair it. Right. Most effective way, invasionwise... Her hand moves across to his left heart and he covers her hand with one of his own, putting the other one to her face. This again. The benefits of owning another person. Gently, he brings her face slightly downwards and kisses Rose.
"Oh, I'm sure," she responds flashing him a grin before she rolls her eyes. If the Doctor was that bad, he was probably worse but that didn't matter now. "It's a bit--" She tries to narrow the right word down thinking of the Doctor's pin striped suit. "Chic. Especially with his hair sticking out everywhere." His really great hair, she thinks looking a bit distant. "He wears glasses sometimes and it's just--" With as much as she wants to see him in something different she really does fancy that look on him.
When she feels his hand against her own all thoughts of the Doctor become buried. There's only him. She's completely lost for a moment staring into his eyes, feeling his fingertips against the side of her face pulling her down and then his lips against hers. It's...She doesn't pull away becoming wrapped up in the feeling and deepening the kiss as she lowers herself down even further to settle into his lap.
The Master has to smile for a moment against Rose's lips before she deepens the kiss and sits down on his lap. The kiss, as it becomes all tongues and grasping at each other, makes it very easy for him to slip into Rose's mind and do his maintenance, even as he brings his arms around her. He's always been good at multitasking. Frayed edges, loose connections...perhaps there is a part of Rose fighting against his mind-control somewhere. Can't have that. He smooths over all of the loose ends in her mind, welds together broken sections. It's strange, these malfunctions. It all feels like him to him but at the same time, something like...butterflies. He'll have to check his own mind later.
Rose shuts her eyes completely unaware of what's really going on around her and in her mind. Her fingers tighten around the fabric of his black jumper. There's almost a ticklish sensation that hits her as the kiss deepen but she's not really bothered by it. "Doc-" she half murmurs against his lips before pulling away with a gasp, her eyes fluttering open. She inhales and exhales with flushed cheeks hoping that he didn't catch that.
Can he never fully have someone?! The Doctor isn't even here and he's spoiling his fun! The Master's eyes burn with rage for about a second before he can calm himself down, at least outwardly and give her a rueful look.
"I suppose that answers that question," he says quietly, thankful that he at least finished his patch job before Rose broke off the kiss. He lets her hair run through the fingers of his left hand, as he thinks of how he wants to portray this. "It's difficult to love someone when they're incapable of any sort of commitment, isn't it?"
He is saved from having to do much more improvisation by the sound of the kettle boiling off in the kitchen. "Excuse me," he says solemnly, scooping her legs sideways off his lap and slipping out from under her. "The tea."
She's silent for a moment staring at him. "Who says I want commitment?" she responds. The Doctor crops up again and she wants to scold herself for blundering this up. He doesn't love her does he? Why is she even bothering? She knows that he can never settle. She's always known it. It's about the only thing she's sure of when it comes to him. "It's...really not about that." she adds not really sure what it's about.
Slowly his hold starts to take a stronger grip on her subconscious and she really wants to kick herself now finding herself back on the couch and watching Harry. "Tea..."
"Hold on." She leans forward to place a hand against his shoulder as if to stop him. "I can get it, luv." A small smile goes his way and she hopes he forgives her.
Rose stops him with a hand before he can go very far. "If you'd like to," he says, betraying nothing outwardly but vague amusement. He's not going to let the Doctor ruin this and, apparently, neither is she. He takes a deep, unnecessary breath, entirely for effect. "I was going to put some biscuits on a plate as well. If you'd like to do the tea..." He leaves it momentarily open-ended, and then says, "The teapot's in the cupboard on the far left. I'll get the cups out when I get the plate." Taking her hand in his own, he squeezes it and then walks with her to the kitchen, holding it all the way there.
Rose is very pretty, and this will make the Doctor very cross. The Master has always been one for taking what he wants.
"Of course I would," she responds flashing him another smile being more than happy to do it. At the mention of biscuits her eyes light up a bit more. She thinks that would be even better with the tea. "Biscuits too? You spoil me." A smirk crosses her lips and her fingers then curl around his own giving his hand a squeeze in return before they're finally in the kitchen.
The Doctor isn't even a thought in her head anymore letting go of Harry's hand to rummage through the cupboard and fetch out the teapot. She goes sets it down on the counter before glancing back at Harry for a moment. She's amazed at how he handles being alone with the ticking. "So still no pet?"
The Master looks through different cupboards, coming out with two mugs and then a plate. He pushes the two teabags towards her on the counter and smiles slightly.
"Not yet, no. I haven't had a pet for centuries; I'd have to become used to the concept again. The ticking is very annoying, yes, but I'm not certain if a pet would be equal or worse as far as annoyances go." He leans down to open a drawer and rummages through it, putting an assortment of biscuits onto the plate. Chocolate ladyfingers, jammie dodgers, a nice variety of chocolate biscuits that he found at the bakery. He has a little bit of a weakness for this sort of thing. It comes in useful at teatime, at least.
If Rose has to guess, she figures that it would probably do him a bit of good to get a pet. Maybe something easy to take care of like a hamster or a mouse. But she doesn't voice it busying herself with setting up the tea.
Once that's done she turns to look over in Harry's direction making note of the variety of biscuits. Again there's a bit of surprise to what's laid out since she's mostly use to having tea alone with the occasional biscuit. But then maybe he's just humoring her. Or maybe well..."You really do like chocolate, don't you?"
"It's nice," he admits. "A very good thing about Earth and equivalent planets. We didn't have it back on Gallifrey. We could synthesise it but it's not quite the same. Besides," he adds, smiling warmly at her, "most people from Earth tend to enjoy it, so it's a fairly safe gamble to offer a chocolate biscuit when you've one over for tea."
Balancing the plate, he walks back over to the couches, pulls the coffee table closer to the couch Rose was sitting on with his foot and then sets the plate onto it, coming back over into the kitchen to fetch some coasters, a trivet for the teapot and the mugs.
At the word synthesise she just has to make a face. Their planet sounded interesting at times while others rather dull. This was one of those latter moments but Rose shrugs it off. It still does interest her. "Well you can't really go wrong with it," she agrees fancying chocolate herself.
She grabs the tea pot and heads back to where the couches are leaning down to carefully set the very hot tea pot down on the trivet before finding her spot back on the couch. "What about...marmalade? Or lemon scones?" she asks curious as to what else he likes that isn't chocolate.
At her next comments, however, he actually does laugh. "He used to change his clothes more often, you know. Quite sartorially obsessed, actually. A new outfit every time I saw him. We've traded places, it seems. He does change his shirts, though, doesn't he?" Pathetic that he's noticed, really. Probably very anal of him. "I do like wearing a suit but it's not always practical."
"Very well," he says, walking over to the kitchen, open-concept, still in view. After filling the kettle with water and placing it on the stove to come to a boil, he opens a cupboard and riffles through the tea. Orange Pekoe is boring...Earl Grey even more so... He could go for something a little less common but something common is probably safest. He settles on English Breakfast, eventually, very traditional of him. Very Harold Saxon, even if he doesn't really need to keep up too much of the facade with Rose. The character is comfortable, though, so he feels like he might as well. Taking out two bags and placing them on the counter, he walks back over to Rose and sits in the armchair adjacent to the couch, close to Rose without being on the same surface. It's polite, and calculated. Maybe he'll move later into her visit.
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She watches him leave and then return to which she smiles at. Her back digs against the couch as she relaxes. "So, um." she begins swaying on her next choice of words. "Your hearts are still beating, right?" She's heard all sorts of terrible things about what happens when one actually dies here but she hopes that he's escaped that.
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"Yes, I'm not 'undead'. Both of them are still going," says the Master, and then adds, flirting a little, "You can check if you like."
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"Can I?" she asks as her eyes light up. She really does want to so that it clears one worry and--She's up before another thought can cram through approaching the armchair slowly, reaching him and leaning down. She hesitates for a moment, her dark eyes remaining on him but then her right hand's lightly pressed against his right heart. Still beating. The same hand slides across the fabric of the jumper to go for his left heart. All the while her own beats just a little bit faster.
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The Master watches Rose as she places her hand on his chest, watches her face rather than looking down, his eyes amber and clear. Heartbeats mirroring the drums in his head and he likes what he's done to Rose. Probably, he could have had her here even without the mind-control but as that's his favourite part... Oh, and he still needs to repair it. Right. Most effective way, invasionwise...
Her hand moves across to his left heart and he covers her hand with one of his own, putting the other one to her face. This again. The benefits of owning another person. Gently, he brings her face slightly downwards and kisses Rose.
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When she feels his hand against her own all thoughts of the Doctor become buried. There's only him. She's completely lost for a moment staring into his eyes, feeling his fingertips against the side of her face pulling her down and then his lips against hers. It's...She doesn't pull away becoming wrapped up in the feeling and deepening the kiss as she lowers herself down even further to settle into his lap.
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"Harry..."
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"I suppose that answers that question," he says quietly, thankful that he at least finished his patch job before Rose broke off the kiss. He lets her hair run through the fingers of his left hand, as he thinks of how he wants to portray this. "It's difficult to love someone when they're incapable of any sort of commitment, isn't it?"
He is saved from having to do much more improvisation by the sound of the kettle boiling off in the kitchen. "Excuse me," he says solemnly, scooping her legs sideways off his lap and slipping out from under her. "The tea."
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Slowly his hold starts to take a stronger grip on her subconscious and she really wants to kick herself now finding herself back on the couch and watching Harry. "Tea..."
"Hold on." She leans forward to place a hand against his shoulder as if to stop him. "I can get it, luv." A small smile goes his way and she hopes he forgives her.
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"If you'd like to," he says, betraying nothing outwardly but vague amusement. He's not going to let the Doctor ruin this and, apparently, neither is she. He takes a deep, unnecessary breath, entirely for effect. "I was going to put some biscuits on a plate as well. If you'd like to do the tea..." He leaves it momentarily open-ended, and then says, "The teapot's in the cupboard on the far left. I'll get the cups out when I get the plate." Taking her hand in his own, he squeezes it and then walks with her to the kitchen, holding it all the way there.
Rose is very pretty, and this will make the Doctor very cross. The Master has always been one for taking what he wants.
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The Doctor isn't even a thought in her head anymore letting go of Harry's hand to rummage through the cupboard and fetch out the teapot. She goes sets it down on the counter before glancing back at Harry for a moment. She's amazed at how he handles being alone with the ticking. "So still no pet?"
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"Not yet, no. I haven't had a pet for centuries; I'd have to become used to the concept again. The ticking is very annoying, yes, but I'm not certain if a pet would be equal or worse as far as annoyances go." He leans down to open a drawer and rummages through it, putting an assortment of biscuits onto the plate. Chocolate ladyfingers, jammie dodgers, a nice variety of chocolate biscuits that he found at the bakery. He has a little bit of a weakness for this sort of thing. It comes in useful at teatime, at least.
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Once that's done she turns to look over in Harry's direction making note of the variety of biscuits. Again there's a bit of surprise to what's laid out since she's mostly use to having tea alone with the occasional biscuit. But then maybe he's just humoring her. Or maybe well..."You really do like chocolate, don't you?"
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Balancing the plate, he walks back over to the couches, pulls the coffee table closer to the couch Rose was sitting on with his foot and then sets the plate onto it, coming back over into the kitchen to fetch some coasters, a trivet for the teapot and the mugs.
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She grabs the tea pot and heads back to where the couches are leaning down to carefully set the very hot tea pot down on the trivet before finding her spot back on the couch. "What about...marmalade? Or lemon scones?" she asks curious as to what else he likes that isn't chocolate.
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