The rhythm of the war drums...

[thedrumsofwar]

The Master has finished his device

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[molokovcocktail]

Molokov is starting to wonder if the Inn has it in for him. Two weeks of relative peace and quiet and now once more, the Master is in his way.

Resignedly, he sits in the closest chair next to him and waits. Perhaps if he's lucky, it'll only be a quick session.

[thedrumsofwar]

He can't help but laugh, seeing Molokov just sitting there, waiting for him. It's really fascinating how easy it's been, without too much violence, just words... and a little pressure on his mind...

He will have to take him with him when he leaves, he decides. If he ever does manage to leave. He's too entertaining to leave behind.

"Sascha," he purrs softly as he walks over to him, circling around the back of the chair, fingers brushing over the man's cheek and neck. He's restless, and the drums are too. To come this close to violence, hurt, pain, and to have to pass it off to the hands of a child, where he wouldn't even be able to see the destruction... He needs an outlet.

[molokovcocktail]

There was no point in running or trying to hide, as far as Molokov is concerned. The Master finds him anyway, and this way - this way he can at least keep a little dignity about the whole proceedings.

He shudders at the touch, as he always does. He can't control that reaction, no matter how hard he tries.

"What?"

[thedrumsofwar]

"I was just saying hello," he says, curling his fingers lightly in Molokov's hair. It's a gentle gesture, almost affectionate, though there's an implicit threat there.

"Though I believe the appropriate response may be 'Master'..."

[molokovcocktail]

"Is it?" Molokov keeps his voice light. He is not so broken yet to call him that,

[thedrumsofwar]

"It is my name," the Master says with a hint of a pout. "And I greeted you with yours. What is impolite."

[molokovcocktail]

Molokov sighs. "Master," he says, with as much ill grace as he can manage.

[thedrumsofwar]

"There you go," the Master says softly, smiling and pulling his hand lightly away from Molokov's neck as he circles around in front of him. "Oh, it is good to see you again. You're not even trying to leave this time - now why is that?"

[molokovcocktail]

Molokov merely looks up at the Master. "Would there be any point?"

[thedrumsofwar]

"No," the Master says honestly, "not really. But you always do seem to try."

He stops directly in front of Molokov, tilting his head to one side and just studying him. "Why are you still here, though?"

[molokovcocktail]

"If you would like to be alone, I would be more than happy to oblige." It can't be this easy. Things are never this easy, but he gets up anyway, on the off-chance he'll be allowed to slip away.

[thedrumsofwar]

"I don't mean why are you here right now," the Master says scornfully, pulling up a chair in front of Molokov and sitting, leaning back calmly. "I mean here at all. In the Inn. It won't open to your universe, at your time, perhaps, but you could leave with anyone else you wished. What's keeping you here?"

[molokovcocktail]

So much for that idea. He sinks back down in his chair with a sigh.

He considers the Master's question carefully. "I like it here," he answers, finally. And he does, for the most part, situations like these aside.

And of course, there's Walter, but the less said about him, the better.

[thedrumsofwar]

"Don't you get bored?" the Master asks, his voice a soft hiss. "Restless? Don't you miss doing things, dear Sascha?"

[molokovcocktail]

"I have enough to keep me busy here."

[thedrumsofwar]

"Oh, lies," he growls softly, seeming to take quite a bit of pleasure from that. "You're lying. You've got nothing."