(no subject)
There is a raging counsellor in the Lady President's office. Well, as much as this one rages, which amounts to wearing a hole in her carpet and muttering fiercely, long pale hands clutched tightly behind him. It's certainly more of a reaction than any other patients have got.
"He is as impertinent as he was as a child, President Flavia, but with age he's slyer with age. I can hardly shout at him when he's so tactful in his insults, so placid and quiet."
"I didn't think counsellors were meant to shout, Paxavel."
He finally comes to a halt in the centre of her abused floor, scowling at her across the desk.
"Some people need to be shouted at, Your Excellency."
President Flavia makes a show of examining her nails, speaking to them rather than the man before her.
"Did that ever work before?"
"It got him to shut his fool mouth for a bit."
"I must say, that hardly sounds rehabilitative."
Paxavel gives a sharp laugh, and it's echoed from behind him. He spins, robes swirling at his feet, to find the very subject of his diatribe smiling wryly at him from the archway.
"I see we agree on that prospect. I've still no idea what our lovely President is playing at, but it's nice to know you're as much in the dark as I."
"You could make it easier on the both of us by cooperating," Paxavel snaps. The Doctor's smile widens.
"If I'm forced to stay here, I may as well enjoy it as much as possible."
"Why must you take so much pleasure in disrupting your home?"
The smile fades from the Doctor's face, the levity from his voice. For once, he looks his age.
"Gallifrey has not been my home for a very long time." His voice softens as he shakes his head. "I don't know if it ever was."
A sharp nod to President Flavia and he's gone, striding the corridors with the speed of one accustomed to running.
"Well. That was enlightening, anyway. More than most of our sessions." Nixavel takes a deep breath before turning back to her; there's a weary, pensive smile on her face - a slight mischievous one, he'd think, if he didn't know better.
"Wasn't it? You'll need to add it to your notes."
"He is as impertinent as he was as a child, President Flavia, but with age he's slyer with age. I can hardly shout at him when he's so tactful in his insults, so placid and quiet."
"I didn't think counsellors were meant to shout, Paxavel."
He finally comes to a halt in the centre of her abused floor, scowling at her across the desk.
"Some people need to be shouted at, Your Excellency."
President Flavia makes a show of examining her nails, speaking to them rather than the man before her.
"Did that ever work before?"
"It got him to shut his fool mouth for a bit."
"I must say, that hardly sounds rehabilitative."
Paxavel gives a sharp laugh, and it's echoed from behind him. He spins, robes swirling at his feet, to find the very subject of his diatribe smiling wryly at him from the archway.
"I see we agree on that prospect. I've still no idea what our lovely President is playing at, but it's nice to know you're as much in the dark as I."
"You could make it easier on the both of us by cooperating," Paxavel snaps. The Doctor's smile widens.
"If I'm forced to stay here, I may as well enjoy it as much as possible."
"Why must you take so much pleasure in disrupting your home?"
The smile fades from the Doctor's face, the levity from his voice. For once, he looks his age.
"Gallifrey has not been my home for a very long time." His voice softens as he shakes his head. "I don't know if it ever was."
A sharp nod to President Flavia and he's gone, striding the corridors with the speed of one accustomed to running.
"Well. That was enlightening, anyway. More than most of our sessions." Nixavel takes a deep breath before turning back to her; there's a weary, pensive smile on her face - a slight mischievous one, he'd think, if he didn't know better.
"Wasn't it? You'll need to add it to your notes."