I've started the countdown, I'm ready to go; let's get the job done. [Locked]

[thatsortofaman]

Sometimes, there are advantages to having a friend who made his living as a detective before falling through the rift. Like the ability to sic Des on certain agents of the Kashtta Trust, and after a couple days of following her movements, they've pretty much got them down. Yukimura Kimiko is wonderfully predictable that way

Comments

[nothingsodivine]

Des is leaning against the wall with one foot braced against it, fiddling with a pocket knife. He's not actually planning on using it. He just finds stake-outs boring. The stalking was fun, but this? This is just kinda lame.

And he still can't stop thinking about Gale.

"Watch pot never boils, Doctor," he drawls, after flipping the knife closed for the hundredth time, never looking up once. He just knows what the Doctor is doing.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor jerks backwards and shoots Des a look that's not half as annoyed or as reproachful as he'd like to think it is.

"I was only..." he starts to say, and then decides to just... drop that subject. Instead, he rolls his eyes and sighs, "Will you put that away?"

No one's getting stabbed today. At least, they'd better not.

[nothingsodivine]

Des rolls his eyes right back and pockets the knife. "Just figured I oughta look the part of a conjurer-kidnapping scumbag," he says, even though you can't be called a scumbag if the person you're kidnapping works for great evil. "Maybe we should've gotten black masks to wear over our heads," he adds, with a wide, smarmy grin.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor takes a breath and pauses for a moment, frowning a little at Des as he leans back against the TARDIS. Which may not be a good idea, because if the conjurer wanders by while he's still doing that, there's a good chance the TARDIS will move and send him sprawling, but... Well, he'll be fine.

"And... why would we do that?"

The Doctor doesn't kidnap people a lot. Shockingly.

[invitedthemin]

Sometime later, after the Doctor's journal entry to Adam, a nondescript black sedan, boasting two armed guards and one overexcited neurology geek pulls into a vacant lot nearby. Topher practically scrambles out the door and the minute he catches sight of the Doctor, his eyes go a little wide.

All Adam had to say was, The Doctor could use his help and he was all over that.

"Sweet Mother, it's really you," he says, trying to contain his glee. He extends a hand. "Topher Brink. Big fan. Huge fan. I'm trying hard not to throw up on you, and that's a compliment, BTW." He pauses. "Can I touch your hair? ...Wait. No. That's probably really creepy."

He frowns and then stares at the Doctor with wide, puppy eyes, because HOLY CRAP. HE IS MEETING ONE OF HIS LONG-TIME FICTIONAL HEROES. IN THE FLESH. THIS IS BETTER THAN THE MILLENNIUM FALCON. "Hi."

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor was not expecting that level of enthusiasm. That level of enthusiasm is, for the moment, enough to distract him from the problem of the Trust agent in his TARDIS, and he simply grins down at Topher, somewhat bemused.

"Hello. You've, ah... you've heard of me, then?" he asks mildly. He's stopped being surprised about this sort of thing, but the enthusiasm is nice. Murphy could've been this enthusiastic...

He glances to the outstretched hand, and then reaches out to shake it, hoping the gesture's not going to make the other man faint or throw up on him or something. That would probably be unpleasant for both of them.

[invitedthemin]

Luckily, the Doctor isn't in his fourth incarnation or Topher would have the irresistible urge to jump behind a sofa and hide forever. He shakes the Doctor's hand a little longer than necessary and manages to keep his juiceboxes down, still grinning like he can hardly believe this is happening.

"Yes. I think I actually wept openly when they-" No. No. Mustn't tell the Doctor that they announced his current incarnation was getting killed off.

...Right. Fanboying later. To business. He drops the Doctor's hand and clears his throat. "I'm the... Brain guy. So just show me to your stubborn enemy agent and I'll see what I can do to make her... Spill her guts." Pause. "Not literally. That's... yeah, that's so not what I do. Just... FYI."

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor raises an eyebrow a little about that aborted train of thought, but he's not particularly interested in questioning it too much. He has other concerns, and... he gets the feeling that this is the sort of person who says whatever pops into his head. He's pretty good at recognizing that sort of thing, given that he does quite a bit of it himself.

"Right! Yes!" He glances past Topher to the car and the guards, and then back to the TARDIS. He pulls open the door of the Volkswagon she's disguising herself as today, and gestures grandly toward the inside. "Climb aboard, Mr. Brink. Just you; I'm sure your friends can keep themselves busy until we're done."