Log - Open

[soundof_drums]

Who: The Master, Bartleby, Rose Tyler, Daniel Jackson, the Fourth Doctor, OPEN.
Where: The Infirmary
When: After this, this, and Bartleby's request to the Admiral.
Warnings: Doubtful.

Comments

[soundof_drums]

If the Master had known how very small and weak Rose thought he appeared, he'd have reached out to strangle her... and promptly fall over and off the bed, thereby proving how small and weak he was right now. Well, best not to do that. Instead, the Master offered her a nasty smile.

"Come to gloat?" he asked, his voice a bit dull and hoarse. It hurt to speak, mainly because his throat was so scratchy right now.

[soundof_drums]

He let out a little breath and rolled his eyes. "No. None of that." Then, he glanced at Rose again, dropping the petulant demeanour and giving her a wide-eyed, vulnerable expression-- more of a parody of Detective Tyler's own mannerisms than anything genuine. "Sit with me, on the bed?" Then, a weak, harsh laugh. "I would love a warm body beside me right now."

Open

[fuckwisconsin]

Bartleby watched the Master while inwardly and ruthlessly squashing any feelings of pity. It was just physical pain; the Time Lord had died before, and would get over it. The sneer helped, but then there was coughing, and blood specks like a little consumptive Victorian girl, and he felt obliged to at least go get a paper towel for the Master, which he did.

"So who was it?" He asked neutrally, figuring they would both appreciate getting down to business.

[soundof_drums]

Normally, the Master would feign some politeness, but he wasn't quite in the mood to right now. He took the paper towel and wiped his hand with a frown, then glared at his Warden. "Somebody who knew what this," he hissed, tugging at the collar lightly with his index finger, "does and used it to their advantage."

Lying already! But the Master was nothing, if not an opportunist, and the Doctor had been useful for once, in showing the Master what the collar's function was. Repeatedly. Perhaps he could use this event as an excuse to rid himself of the collar.

[fuckwisconsin]

"They so did not," Bartleby said, more or less automatically, but he wondered if it were true. It would have been much quicker reaction from the general population than he'd anticipated, but it wasn't like his predictions were flawless.

Even if the Master weren't lying, however, he had to stay tough and let him learn the consequences of carrying a past and a reputation like his. "Seriously, someone was able to off you just because you were sneezing?" He sounded skeptical.

[soundof_drums]

Alright, when put like that it did sound utterly ridiculous. Still, he was going to keep on pushing the lie, see where it would take him. The big mistake, of course, was that his lie hinged on the idea that others thought like him, that somebody would see the vulnerability as an opening to harm or destroy another person. Most, probably, saw the sneezing for what it was: a nonviolent way of neutralising a threat.

"No, they were able to neutralise me long enough to take advantage of a certain weakness of my species," he answered. "Self defence is rather difficult when you have to close your eyes and sneeze every second."

[soundof_drums]

While the Doctor was pretending to ignore him, the Master busied himself with doing much the same, idly flipping through... Great Expectations, actually, the book that the Doctor's ninth incarnation had thrust upon him over a year ago. In fact, that was the reason why the Master was reading it right now: he happened to have the entire thing transcribed in his journal, due to that Doctor's stubbornness.

He glared over at the Doctor and closed the book. "Aspirin, if you can believe it."

[soundof_drums]

"Doctor..." He smiled unpleasantly. "Why would I tell? That would simply get the others' guards up to protect this individual."

Aziraphale, closed

[still_ineffable]

Aziraphale waited, hovering in the corner (worriedly and literally - about half an inch off the ground, in fact, although he didn't notice). He seemed to have generated quite the little crowd of well-wishers, although the extent to which they were actually wishing well seemed...variable. The angel himself didn't really need to be here, he supposed, but he felt somewhat responsible for this person after finding the body and, well. It wouldn't hurt to take five minutes and make sure he was alright.

A lull in proceedings emerged. He floated towards the bed, realised what he was doing and landed guiltily.

"Mr. Master. It's good to see you....not dead," he concluded, rather lamely.

[soundof_drums]

The Master watched the strange man, taking note of the levitation, his expression one of great interest. "Hm?" He smiled in a parody of kindness. "Yes, I quite agree."

[still_ineffable]

"I'm sure somebody's told you about the circumstances of your, ah, passing," Aziraphale said. "I brought you here from the library. I just wanted to see that you were all right before I left...I've read a little about this Death Toll business, it all sounds highly unpleasant."

[soundof_drums]

"All by yourself?" he questioned, eyebrow raised. "My, how thoughtful." Then, he shrugged, leaning back against his pillow. "It is, that. But one becomes accustomed to such things where I'm from."

Ten, Closed

[stillnot_ginger]

It was out of sheer morbid curiosity -- oh who was he kidding? The Doctor wanted to know what was going on; apparently staying holed up in the TARDIS by way of a protest of being on this barge wasn't doing much good.

And so, the Doctor found himself in the infirmary, hanging back and observing. It was enough time for the Doctor to gather his thoughts before he finally approached his bedside.

"Well, well, well."

[soundof_drums]

He glanced over at the Doctor and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, Doctor. How gratifying it must be for you to witness me like this." He spread his arms to show off the hospital gown. "White really isn't my colour."

[stillnot_ginger]

"Always the first one to throw out the barb," the Doctor replied, taking a few steps towards him, finally settling in a chair near his bedside. The Doctor propped up a chucks-clad foot on the edge of the bed and looked at the Master. "Care to lodge a complaint with management? I'm sure they'd be willing to find something in a nice puce or lavender."

[soundof_drums]

"You know me, Doctor. I like to show initiative," he retorted, complete with a smarmy smirk. He glanced at the Doctor's shoe-- noting its proximity to him-- with a displeased look in his eyes, then looked over at the other Time Lord. "So, what brings you to sit in my presence? You didn't even bring me flowers, so I can assume you're not here for well wishing." Even newly murdered and restored, the Master was rather obnoxious.