stop the cycle, set me free ( capnhotness )
( clock is ticking while I'm killing time, spinning all around, nothing else they can do to turn it back )
It's a heavy thing to suggest, that one might actually find time to be bored during the end of the world, but the Doctor has somehow managed just that extreme an accomplishment. If anything, the Master seems to be avoiding him. The ( Read more... )
Jack had asked himself the same question - boiler room, what the hell? - when he had been escorted down several days ago, wondering at the tactical advantage (or, really, disadvantage) of such a seemingly out of place aspect of design. While bored, waiting for the Master to pencil him into his busy taking-over-the-world schedule, Jack attempted to follow the pipes nearest to where he had been chained - a dank sort of corner, really, with not much to look at but pipes and the odd shades cast by the dark purple lighting playing across the steam - but to very little avail. Inexplicable Boiler Room, he'd eventually named the place, but the humor of the thing only lasted a few more hours ... until his slotted time with the Master ( ... )
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... oh, but if the Master is annoyed that the Doctor refuses to acknowledge his greeting and subsequent statement, it doesn't entirely show. He counters the manic grin with a vaguely amused smirk of his own. Two can play at this game. "Avoid you? Sorry to say, Doctor, I all but forgot you were even here. I'm a very busy man. Planets to take over, races to enslave, universal domination to plot. You know how it is. Sort of, anyway. But, then again, you never really enjoyed your presidency, did you? Stuffy robes, not enough leg room, etcetera."
As he speaks, in a bored drawl, the Master circles around the Doctor, ducks a few free-hanging chains from the pipes above, and steps around behind the unconscious universal fact. "Oh, look!" he exclaims, a manic upswing of his own taking over. "Handsome Jack trusts you inside his poor little head and you've gone and cut all his strings. That's awful. Where's your great moral center, Time Lord?"
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If the Master expects the Doctor to react with offense to being forgotten he decidedly ... does not. In fact, he responds to the Master's statement by being remarkably unmoved. They are both rather stubborn that way, aren't they? His expression does shift in displeasure as the Master approaches Jack, and the Doctor's posture tenses, wary.
"Better than what you've been doing to him," he responds, his voice cold. "You must tire of it, Master. You must want someone else to play with." The Doctor raises an eyebrow, almost invitingly. Trying, subtly, to distract the other Time Lord from the unconscious human.
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"Ohh." Just a little noise, an expression of surprise and delight, but he makes it sound downright sexual. Then, with a head tilt, the Master seemingly contemplates the Doctor's offer - there's no other word for it, is there? - while retrieving the laser screwdriver from his jacket pocket and wrapping his free hand slowly, finger by finger, around the length of chain linked the shackles around one of Jack's wrists. He leans forward to address the other Time Lord, possessively posturing over the unconscious fact, and his lips twitch into a small, but terribly amused grin. "Tempting. Very tempting." He does, indeed, look half-tempted. "You're so self-sacrificing. Go on, then. Say you miss me. Say you want me. Say you need me. I might even consider it." There's a pause, too short for the Doctor to formulate an actual answer, before the Master moves (manically) on. "No? Think about it, Doctor ( ... )
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"I -" Response half-formed on his lips, the Doctor has no chance to say anything - of course not - and even his objection is cut off as the guards take him by the arms and start to pull him back toward the door. "Stop," he pleads, digging in his heels to resist - but, of course, he just ends up being dragged for his trouble. And then the guards have wrested him outside, and toward the lift.
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