The Master dressed in his personal quarters on the Valiant, leaving... hell, he couldn't keep their names straight! - leaving his shag-of-the-day sprawled in the bed as he strode out the door, straightening his tie
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He watched her warily, sliding the laser screwdriver out of his pocket and holding it down against his leg. He paced, keeping the console between her and him. But she wasn't a Time Lord. There was nothing Time Lord about her.
"Who are you?" he snapped. "This isn't your ship." Statement of fact. He closes his eyes very briefly and turned his face up towards the ceiling. It was a TARDIS, alright. Unmistakeable. He looked at her again. Only the Doctor took human companions. It was one of the reasons why he had gathered his own. And some of the Doctor's friends to boot.
"I'm Jo Jones." She kept still and watched him pace. "It's safe here, I promise." He really didn't look happy to be here, but walking into something that was bigger on the inside could unnerve people.
She frowned when he mentioned the Time Lords and wondered where he'd come across them. "I don't know about most of them. Were you expecting any Time Lords in particular?"
"Most of them?" He pointed a finger at her across the console. "This is a TARDIS. I know when I'm in a TARDIS. Whose is it? It's not his, so it must be one of theirs. But he told me they're gone. He told me they burned," he snarled.
Koschei sensed another Time presence appear on board. Grinning, he set off for the console room. There was at least a chance that this new presence was a rescue party, sent to take Koschei back to Gallifrey and none too soon! On arriving in the console room, though, he spotted an older Time Lord, dressed in human garments. Koschei frowned.
"You needn't shout. You're aboard the TARDIS of the White Guardian and apparently you've been chosen to help on his missions to bring order."
The Master spun towards the source of the voice but stopped when he immediately recognized the impossibility of who it was.
"Help on his missions," he breathed, moving towards the boy. He crouched in front of him. "Aren't. You. Precious," he observed barely above a whisper, looking Koschei over. "I bet you can barely hear them," he murmured. He looked the boy in the eyes. "How old are you?"
"No, I'm not precious," Koschei responded, moving away. His instincts were screaming that something was badly wrong, but he lacked the experience to understand why. He covered up his nervousness by falling back on Time Lord arrogance, replying with dignity, "I'm eighty-four years old, if it matters. My name is Koschei of the House of Oakden, member elect of the Prydonian Order, a Time Lord by both birth and training. Who are you?"
"The House of Oakden," the Master said approvingly. "A noble house." He paused. "My name is The Master. A Time Lord by both birth and training." Though he'd long discarded the parts of his training he found either useless or ridiculous or both. Still, Time Lord instincts had prevented him revealing his true identity to the boy.
He stood.
"Am I to understand that you've been abducted and pressed into service as well, or did you choose this a little more... freely than I did?"
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"Who are you?" he snapped. "This isn't your ship." Statement of fact. He closes his eyes very briefly and turned his face up towards the ceiling. It was a TARDIS, alright. Unmistakeable. He looked at her again. Only the Doctor took human companions. It was one of the reasons why he had gathered his own. And some of the Doctor's friends to boot.
"Where are the Time Lords?" he pressed.
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She frowned when he mentioned the Time Lords and wondered where he'd come across them. "I don't know about most of them. Were you expecting any Time Lords in particular?"
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"WHOM DO YOU SERVE?" he shouted.
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"You needn't shout. You're aboard the TARDIS of the White Guardian and apparently you've been chosen to help on his missions to bring order."
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"Help on his missions," he breathed, moving towards the boy. He crouched in front of him. "Aren't. You. Precious," he observed barely above a whisper, looking Koschei over. "I bet you can barely hear them," he murmured. He looked the boy in the eyes. "How old are you?"
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He stood.
"Am I to understand that you've been abducted and pressed into service as well, or did you choose this a little more... freely than I did?"
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