[Omega just nods to that and takes the offered seat, sitting forward so he'd be able to reach the tea set. He offers the file in his hands to Braxiatel.]
Here. I don't intend on keeping it and it's up to you if you want to.
[He shrugs, it'd be better if Brax read it, if for no other reason than to put him at ease, at least with the question of 'how much Omega knows' but if he wants it destroyed, Omega's prepared to respect that.]
You could always fling it over the side. Of course, then I'll be forced to imagine someone walking down the street of whatever dimension it ends up in, getting hit on the head by a folder and then making a book concerning your life. Might make a film, if you're fortunate.
Perhaps, because it's an individual thing, I suppose. For myself, it meant coming to terms with who I was. I simply had no idea when I arrived. All I had were unreliable memories, a sense of anger and sorrow at being abandoned, the fact that it wasn't an accurate representation of what happened made the feelings harder to bear, and a complete disdain for Gallifrey in general and the Doctor in particular
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Your room might be the best choice, if you'd have me.
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[File in hand, Omega raps politely at Brax's door.]
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[Omega takes a moment to take in the room.] You feel at home here?
[Not that he wouldn't, but Omega's own has some unfortunate memories.]
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Here. I don't intend on keeping it and it's up to you if you want to.
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You could always fling it over the side. Of course, then I'll be forced to imagine someone walking down the street of whatever dimension it ends up in, getting hit on the head by a folder and then making a book concerning your life. Might make a film, if you're fortunate.
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