Bad Company Muses - Temper
They're in a prison cell, battered and dishevelled. The Doctor is sitting against a cold, rough granite; Turlough is pacing, having just finished an accusatory tirade.
"Are you done? My ears are ringing." The Doctor's voice is naught but mildly annoyed. Turlough stares down at him, sighs, and slumps down besides his friend.
"I was hoping for a nice shouting match to distract us from our imprisonment."
"I think we ought to rest, don't you?"
"Do you ever lose your temper?" Turlough imagines he'll always be a mystery, this man who's unflappable in the face of treachery and assassination. He doesn't really expect an answer.
"Not often. Not anymore." A sad, tired smile, and once again Turlough is reminded just how old the Doctor is. "I've more control than I used to."
"And why is that?" The smile fades, and just for a moment, the Doctor stares into a very different cage.
They've escaped again, just barely, and landing on another world, trembling and exhausted.
Tegan started shouting at him the moment they stilled, and she hasn't stopped.
"You've got your head so far in the clouds you couldn't hear us screaming! Well I've had enough, Doctor. I'm better off on my own."
"Tegan!" She doesn't listen, of course, storming out into a world of goodness knows what. He's half a mind to get a spot of tea and leave her to it.
"Doctor." Right on cue, thank you Nyssa. She's standing near the door, peering outside with calm concern. Always composed, always dignified. Constantly reminding him of what he ought to be.
He sighs, grasping the console and leaning forward - he may as well confirm their position. "Why must she be so difficult?"
"She's a woman, that's why." Adric, shining his precious star - it had been knocked off when Tegan pushed him aside.
"Romana was a woman," the Doctor says curtly, never looking up. That was the crux of the whole tiresome issue, wasn't it? The wound they both shared and both ignored?
Adric flinches, and coolly informs them that he'll be in his room before walking stiffly towards the inner doors. The Doctor lets him go, closing his eyes, hands tightening enough to hurt - him, his ship. One of them deserves it, at least.
He hears soft, measured footsteps, and straightens, staring at Nyssa with a set jaw.
"Come to chide me, Nyssa? Do make it quick, I need to coax a petulant orphan out of his room before he does something rash and find an infuriating young woman before she gets herself killed just to spite me." To his surprise, she only shakes her head.
"I can talk to Adric. You'll be faster on your own." She rests a hand on the console, and the TARDIS welcomes the careful, gentle touch. He relaxes, a little, and nods.
"Yes. Thank you."
She offers a faint, sympathetic smile. "They only anger you so easily because you care so much. I'm certain they'll understand eventually."
"Life is too short for that sort of thing."
"Are you done? My ears are ringing." The Doctor's voice is naught but mildly annoyed. Turlough stares down at him, sighs, and slumps down besides his friend.
"I was hoping for a nice shouting match to distract us from our imprisonment."
"I think we ought to rest, don't you?"
"Do you ever lose your temper?" Turlough imagines he'll always be a mystery, this man who's unflappable in the face of treachery and assassination. He doesn't really expect an answer.
"Not often. Not anymore." A sad, tired smile, and once again Turlough is reminded just how old the Doctor is. "I've more control than I used to."
"And why is that?" The smile fades, and just for a moment, the Doctor stares into a very different cage.
They've escaped again, just barely, and landing on another world, trembling and exhausted.
Tegan started shouting at him the moment they stilled, and she hasn't stopped.
"You've got your head so far in the clouds you couldn't hear us screaming! Well I've had enough, Doctor. I'm better off on my own."
"Tegan!" She doesn't listen, of course, storming out into a world of goodness knows what. He's half a mind to get a spot of tea and leave her to it.
"Doctor." Right on cue, thank you Nyssa. She's standing near the door, peering outside with calm concern. Always composed, always dignified. Constantly reminding him of what he ought to be.
He sighs, grasping the console and leaning forward - he may as well confirm their position. "Why must she be so difficult?"
"She's a woman, that's why." Adric, shining his precious star - it had been knocked off when Tegan pushed him aside.
"Romana was a woman," the Doctor says curtly, never looking up. That was the crux of the whole tiresome issue, wasn't it? The wound they both shared and both ignored?
Adric flinches, and coolly informs them that he'll be in his room before walking stiffly towards the inner doors. The Doctor lets him go, closing his eyes, hands tightening enough to hurt - him, his ship. One of them deserves it, at least.
He hears soft, measured footsteps, and straightens, staring at Nyssa with a set jaw.
"Come to chide me, Nyssa? Do make it quick, I need to coax a petulant orphan out of his room before he does something rash and find an infuriating young woman before she gets herself killed just to spite me." To his surprise, she only shakes her head.
"I can talk to Adric. You'll be faster on your own." She rests a hand on the console, and the TARDIS welcomes the careful, gentle touch. He relaxes, a little, and nods.
"Yes. Thank you."
She offers a faint, sympathetic smile. "They only anger you so easily because you care so much. I'm certain they'll understand eventually."
"Life is too short for that sort of thing."