(no subject)
Title: Bargain Hunt.
Author: Becky_H
Character(s): Master, Tenth Doctor.
Genre: Gen(ish)
Rating: PG
Spoilers Utopia onwards.
Warnings: Nope
Word Count: 300ish
Prompt: Set2Music Prompt 46: You don't really want to mess with me tonight
Summary: Half an hour before Gotcha!. Requested by unfeathered. The Doctor needs some convincing.
Author's Notes: Meme Response. Written fast and dirty (and falling asleep and distracted).
Getting Jack drugged isn't much of a problem. He's in chains, after all. Hard to put up much of a fight that way.
Getting the Doctor to play along is proving much, much, irritatingly much, harder. He should have guessed. No, wait, he did guess. He just doesn't care.
He rubs his eyes and drops his hand down to the table and looks at the Doctor. "It's very, very, simple." He speaks clearly and precisely, as if in deference to the Doctor's advanced age, questionable hearing and dubious mental facilities. "Either you do it, or I will."
The Doctor gives him a look that suggests he's not the one who's an idiot. The Master really wants to wrap his hands around that scrawny neck and - Never mind and what. He shakes the thought off.
"Fine. If I do it, I'll electrify the rod."
The Doctor grimaces and says nothing. Maybe he's getting somewhere. He'd better be getting somewhere. He hates having to have an answer for the 'or else'. It makes him cranky.
"I'll make you young again." The Master's wiping out humanity, the Doctor's old and ugly, and who's doing the bargaining and bribing? Over the Freak. The Master loses the fake cheerful tone before he adds, "Final offer." He means it.
The Doctor must sense that the Master's getting close to an edge of doing something really impressive. There's a hint of fear in his eyes when he nods, slowly and reluctantly. "All right."
"Good boy," the Master says, patronizingly, grins and bounces out of his chair. He likes winning. It's good for him. Good for everyone else, too, he thinks darkly.
Author: Becky_H
Character(s): Master, Tenth Doctor.
Genre: Gen(ish)
Rating: PG
Spoilers Utopia onwards.
Warnings: Nope
Word Count: 300ish
Prompt: Set2Music Prompt 46: You don't really want to mess with me tonight
Summary: Half an hour before Gotcha!. Requested by unfeathered. The Doctor needs some convincing.
Author's Notes: Meme Response. Written fast and dirty (and falling asleep and distracted).
Getting Jack drugged isn't much of a problem. He's in chains, after all. Hard to put up much of a fight that way.
Getting the Doctor to play along is proving much, much, irritatingly much, harder. He should have guessed. No, wait, he did guess. He just doesn't care.
He rubs his eyes and drops his hand down to the table and looks at the Doctor. "It's very, very, simple." He speaks clearly and precisely, as if in deference to the Doctor's advanced age, questionable hearing and dubious mental facilities. "Either you do it, or I will."
The Doctor gives him a look that suggests he's not the one who's an idiot. The Master really wants to wrap his hands around that scrawny neck and - Never mind and what. He shakes the thought off.
"Fine. If I do it, I'll electrify the rod."
The Doctor grimaces and says nothing. Maybe he's getting somewhere. He'd better be getting somewhere. He hates having to have an answer for the 'or else'. It makes him cranky.
"I'll make you young again." The Master's wiping out humanity, the Doctor's old and ugly, and who's doing the bargaining and bribing? Over the Freak. The Master loses the fake cheerful tone before he adds, "Final offer." He means it.
The Doctor must sense that the Master's getting close to an edge of doing something really impressive. There's a hint of fear in his eyes when he nods, slowly and reluctantly. "All right."
"Good boy," the Master says, patronizingly, grins and bounces out of his chair. He likes winning. It's good for him. Good for everyone else, too, he thinks darkly.