Fic: The Family Business. (Doctor, Rose, the Master, PG, totally AU)
The Family Business. Further adventures of the Doctor, the Master, and Rose. And an extra-special guest. PG-ish. Totally AU, as always. The first section was originally written as a ficlet for dear adriana_is, but I got overexcited and it has become a longer... thing. Thank you, everyone who encouraged me and asked for more. ♥
For previous installments, see: Human Women, Tea Time, and Firey Death.
The Master has never been happier. Never. Not even on last year's birthday, when Rose baked him a cake and he put the Doctor's face in it.
He finally does it.
He finally does it, he does; he slips a tablespoon (okay, four tablespoons) of hallucinatory pollen into the Doctor's mug and tells Rose that the antidote is outside and down the hill and he will stay with him until it passes and he will not dress him up and convince him he's a kabuki actor. And when she's gone, he tells the Doctor the door is a giant jam biscuit, and when the Doctor has tired himself out gnawing on the hinges, he takes a blood sample and kicks him out on his ass and uses the sample to fool the ship's DNA-triggered steering system and he has finally done it.
The Master has never been happier. Never. Not even on last year's birthday, when Rose baked him a cake and he put the Doctor's face in it.
"I did it !" he crows, to them, and then frowns when he remembers that they aren't there and he hates them, anyway. He sets the controls to 1843, because he wants a meat pie and he's good with steam-powered death mechanisms. There's a good beat in the back of his brain; he dances a little, and tries to remember how to loosen a corset with one hand. There's a slight turbulence. There is more turbulence, the sensation of wind and looming space, the wildness of time- in short, something goes a bit wonky, he does a good milkshake impression and falls down on the floor a lot. Something snaps back into place. The gears grind to a halt and the landing is shaky at best; he is certain that the ship is angry with him. Fine. He kisses the glassy center column with a little tongue, just to piss her off further, and stalks to the doors. Flinging them open, just to hear the smack, he inhales deeply and savors the invigorating scents of-
-peroxide and burnt toast.
"Rose ? Darling ?" says Jackie Tyler, coming in from the hall. He shuts his eyes and opens them again, in case the pollen somehow got underneath his fingernails or into his nose. He blinks.
Everything is very wrong.
He knows it is Jackie Tyler because he has seen the photographs, the terrifying photos of strange human women in bathrobes on some holiday morning, curlers in their hair and everywhere yards of pink chenille. It is blue chenille, today. Jackie scowls at him. "Who the hell are you ?" she asks. He knows that tone, twenty years younger, too well. Her eyes narrow. "And where the hell is my daughter ?"
"Oh, balls," says the Master.
It is simply too nauseating to claim that he is the Doctor; despite the instant trust and access it might grant him in various places, he would have to be constantly smashing himself in the head with something heavy to make up for his disgust. He lets Jackie come up with a suitable identity instead.
"You must be his brother," she says, sizing him up over that morning's coffee, grown slightly cold. "I've seen your face before. In some of the pictures Rose sends through the holo-thingie." He has managed to persuade her that this is an identical ship, not the Doctor's ship, and no that is not Rose's blouse still hanging off the rail, the dirty slob. Jackie sips from her mug. "Unless all timewhotsits have that same narrow, ferrety look."
"Half-brother, actually," he replies, giving her coffee cake a meaningful glance. His eyes well up with false tears. "I was tragically neglected." Jackie pushes the entire plate across the table at him, sympathetically, and the Master suddenly wonders if he can't turn this frown upside down.
Metaphorically.
"Jackie Tyler," he says, warmly, trying to exude rainbows and kittens and honesty from his eyes, "do you like meat pies ?" There is a momentary misunderstanding about slang terminology and innuendo, for which he is slapped, after which Jackie apologetically admits a fondness for almost any food that can be bought at the fair. "You're a woman of taste," he says grandly. "How about a trip to one of the greatest fairs in history ? The Crystal Palace, all iron and glass, bursting with unwashed masses just begging to be- er, entertained. And anything you can imagine, fried on a stick."
"I dunno," she says. He can see interest warring with apprehension in the hamster-wheels of her mind. This is the only rational response, if one knows the Doctor. He's going to have to sweeten the deal if this kidnapping is going to run at all smoothly. "Is it all going to go wrong like it usually does ?"
"No, no." He pats her arm. "I'm a much better driver than that- person."
"You'd have to be." Jackie gives him a stern look. "I wouldn't let my boy get in that machine unless I could be sure we're coming home safe."
"Of course," the Master says, and then stops. "Your boy ?"
"TONY-YYY," Jackie bellows, leaning back in her chair. "GET UP AND COME DOWNSTAIRS, TIME TO MEET YOUR UNCLE MASTER." There is a long silence, and then the pounding of tiny feet above their heads and the sound of a small excited child making airplane noises. Jackie beams at the Master and he looks around cheerfully for an object that he can use to kill her, or himself, in any order. In a moment the thing called Tony appears in the doorway in short pants and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Water Buffalos t-shirt, with mismatched socks.
"Haven't got an Uncle Masters," he says, suspiciously. "Are you an imposter ?" The Master breaks into a perfectly reasonable, grown-up sweat.
"Don't be rude," Jackie says, ruffling the boy's hair as she stands up and heads for the hallway. "I'm going to get dressed, I'll be back in two shakes. Entertain our visitor for a minute. He's related to the Doctor, you remember the Doctor, you met him once. He calls on the video phone with your sister sometimes."
"The skinny man ?" says Tony. "His suit smelled like socks."
"Tony Tyler," the Master says, breaking into an enormous smile. "How wonderful to meet you." He watches Jackie disappear up the staircase, then kneels down and looks the boy in his grubby small face. Plans are rapidly changing. "You seem like a bright lad. Do you by any chance like- guns ?"
"DO I EVER," says Tony.
"He's got my WHAT," Rose shrieks, into her phone. "TONY ? When ? Why ? How did he- no of course not, we're stuck on- no, I don't think he'll- he wouldn't dare, mum, calm down," she cuts in. "We'll get him back. We'll get him back, I promise. The Doctor promises, too. Okay. I'll call you when we've got something- yeah. I love you." She flips the handset shut and slips it into her pocket, turning to the Doctor. "It's him. Somehow he got the TARDIS to cross over, he met my mum on Pete's world."
"JAM ?" asks the Doctor, concerned. His mouth is still flaked with paint chips from gnawing the doors. He fists his hands in his hair. "JAMPOSSIBLE."
"I know," she shakes her head, "but he did it. And now he's taken off with my baby brother. He's got Tony and God knows where they are in the universe." He rubs her arm comfortingly. "Yeah. Tony's a smart boy. He'll be okay." She wipes away the slight sting of tears from her eyes. "First things first, we should try to track their signal." He pulls her closer and whispers something urgently into her ear. "Yes, I know. And you need a biscuit. This is going to wear off, isn't it ?"
"Jam," says the Doctor.
There are only so many fires you can set at the Great Exhibition without attracting unwanted attention.
"I think they want to kill you," says Tony, from the back seat of the Master's brand-new steam-powered tank, cobbled together from several of the displays and puffing a fantastic cloud of lung-searing black smoke mostly for show. In front of them, men with uniforms and rifles are assembling in a line. The Master is rolling over a Jacquard loom and several model factories and cackling to himself. "You're not paying attention," Tony yells. Rifle fire hits the upper chamber, sending bullets back in a dangerous ricochet. The Master shifts into a higher gear. Through the slot in the front of the tank, Tony can see the frightened soldiers scattering to the left and right, and the large glass wall in front. Thinking quickly, Tony clambers up into the firing mechanism.
"What are you doing ?" the Master shouts. Tony ignores him, and pulls the handle. An enormous shell explodes the back wall of the building, and the Master laughs with glee. He ramps up the speed and the tank pitches through the busted hole, rumbling down a slight hill into a fountain and decapitating twelve cherubs. Water suddenly begins to rise under their feet. "Whoops," says the Master, popping the hatch. He clambers out and, after a long pause, reaches back in to drag Tony out by his collar. "You," he says, in a tone of interest, as they leg it away from the scene, "are a natural at destruction. Your sister is a lost cause, but you-"
"I thought you were going to hit those people," Tony accuses.
"So did I!" the Master says. "I missed. Don't be disappointed. I have an idea."
Back at the TARDIS, he flips the dials and programs new coordinates, and once again there's a terrible piece of turbulence in the middle. They're flung around the ship as the console sparks and flashes angry warning lights, and in the midst of the panic the Master remembers something that Rose may have babbled about a few times, parallel etcetera-etcetera. Something parked outside Jackie's kitchen window. "Tony," he says, "does your family own a zepplin ?"
"Two," he says proudly.
"Crap," says the Master.
"There!" Rose points to the vidscreen and claps her hands together, pleased. "They just blinked back onto the sensors." The Doctor rolls over and pushes his glasses back up. "Can you follow the signal ?"
"I'll jam," he says, and the tech behind the sensor display giggles softly to herself. "It's a medical condition," he adds, defensively.
"Thanks again for all of this," Rose says warmly, to the Judoon captain standing stiffly by the computer bank. She pats his wrist gauntlet in a friendly manner, much like the eyelash-fluttering that got them escorted to central command instead of shot for trespassing in the first place. "I can't tell you how much we appreciate it. You've just been so lovely, picking us up, helping me find my brother. I'm really grateful."
"Bloon joon hoon brigoon floon," he replies, tilting his horn and standing pigeontoed. The Judoon waves his hand in an aw-shucks gesture, and the Doctor scowls. "Bloon bloon dignoon mooyoon moo-"
"Watch it," the Doctor cuts in. "That lady's spoken for." Rose rolls her eyes.
"Foon foon," the captain says.
"I JAMMING WELL AM NOT," says the Doctor, rising from his chair, and Rose steps between them, indicating the screen. "Oh! They've stopped. Looks like a candy factory in Delta Five. Can't imagine what he's doing there, probably poisoning the local- never mind," he says, watching Rose's horrified expression. He decides to change topics. "That tracker's really come in handy. I should put one on you," he adds, glancing at Rose with a slightly devious grin. "Can't stop you from wandering off, might as well tag the migration." She winks, and turns back to their escort.
"So," she purrs. "How fast are your ships ?"
"WE ARE THE ROBOT DEATH MACHINES FROM SPACE, AND WE'VE COME FOR ALL YOUR CANDY," Tony hollers, and leaps off the jump seat, landing on the grates with a painful thud, rolling into a ball, jumping back onto his feet and aiming a finger-gun in the direction of the Master. "BOOM CRACKA-CRACKA-CRACKOW. ROBOT DEATH CEREAL WITH COCOA CRUNCHIES."
"Can you repeat that ?" The Master glances up from the little notebook he's been writing everything in. "Death cereal with what ?"
"COCOA MURDER CRUNCHIES," says Tony. He drops his arms to his sides and looks strangely sad. The sugar may be wearing off, the Master thinks. And his little project was on such a roll. "I'm hungry again."
"Yes, good, fine." The Master flips the pages. "Just a few more. So far we've got Robot Death Surprise Box, Robot Death Rollercoaster Accident, Robot Death Laser Arm Cannon- I like that especially- Super Flaming Robot Death Flamethrower, Hugging Robot- let us never speak of it again- and Robot Death Cereal with Cocoa Murder Crunchies. They could use a little polishing, but valuable suggestions, all." He beams down at Tony. "You have a gift."
"I'm hungry," Tony whines. "I want a sandwich."
"A robot death sandwich ?" asks the Master. A leading question. It fails to get a reaction from Tony, so he shrugs and throws the lever, spins the handwheel a half-turn, and pulls the parking brake at the last possible second. There's a small thud from outside. "Want to go out first, and see what we hit ?"
It turns out to be a Balbusian policeman and his friends.
"He's not really my uncle," says Tony, after they're cornered in the market square, the Master brandishing a pickaxe and the Balbusi equivalent of a Barbie doll in his defense. "I just met him today and he said he'd take me for a ride and give me candy." Sixteen pairs of eyes belonging to four police officers roll angrily in the Master's direction.
"He's lying!" He looks down at Tony, whose expression has made a sudden shift towards angelic and winsome. "Look at him! He's pure evil! He invented the Robot Mango Death Surprise!"
"Come with us, sir."
"My sister warned me about that sort of person. She was real specific," says Tony, sagely, taking the hand of the largest Balbusi policewoman. She pats his head. "Can I make a phone call ?" Behind them, the Master is being turned upside-down and stuffed into a prisoner transport with an onboard automatic decontamination rinse. There is a gurgling high-pitched scream of several phrases which the TARDIS refuses to translate. "You should never say naughty words like that," says Tony.
"Quite right, little fleshy one," she agrees.
"You smell terrific," says Rose, when they open the cell doors. "What is that, ginger and gladiola ?"
"Shut up," says the Master.
"Don't tell her to jam," says the Doctor, angrily. "When you're the jam who jammed up the whole thing in the first place."
"I'm telling," says Tony, automatically. "Can we stop for ice cream on the way home ? In both universes ? Make him promise not to poison me, Rose."
"He promises."
"No, I don't," says the Master, bitterly.
"He really does," says Rose.
For previous installments, see: Human Women, Tea Time, and Firey Death.
The Master has never been happier. Never. Not even on last year's birthday, when Rose baked him a cake and he put the Doctor's face in it.
He finally does it.
He finally does it, he does; he slips a tablespoon (okay, four tablespoons) of hallucinatory pollen into the Doctor's mug and tells Rose that the antidote is outside and down the hill and he will stay with him until it passes and he will not dress him up and convince him he's a kabuki actor. And when she's gone, he tells the Doctor the door is a giant jam biscuit, and when the Doctor has tired himself out gnawing on the hinges, he takes a blood sample and kicks him out on his ass and uses the sample to fool the ship's DNA-triggered steering system and he has finally done it.
The Master has never been happier. Never. Not even on last year's birthday, when Rose baked him a cake and he put the Doctor's face in it.
"I did it !" he crows, to them, and then frowns when he remembers that they aren't there and he hates them, anyway. He sets the controls to 1843, because he wants a meat pie and he's good with steam-powered death mechanisms. There's a good beat in the back of his brain; he dances a little, and tries to remember how to loosen a corset with one hand. There's a slight turbulence. There is more turbulence, the sensation of wind and looming space, the wildness of time- in short, something goes a bit wonky, he does a good milkshake impression and falls down on the floor a lot. Something snaps back into place. The gears grind to a halt and the landing is shaky at best; he is certain that the ship is angry with him. Fine. He kisses the glassy center column with a little tongue, just to piss her off further, and stalks to the doors. Flinging them open, just to hear the smack, he inhales deeply and savors the invigorating scents of-
-peroxide and burnt toast.
"Rose ? Darling ?" says Jackie Tyler, coming in from the hall. He shuts his eyes and opens them again, in case the pollen somehow got underneath his fingernails or into his nose. He blinks.
Everything is very wrong.
He knows it is Jackie Tyler because he has seen the photographs, the terrifying photos of strange human women in bathrobes on some holiday morning, curlers in their hair and everywhere yards of pink chenille. It is blue chenille, today. Jackie scowls at him. "Who the hell are you ?" she asks. He knows that tone, twenty years younger, too well. Her eyes narrow. "And where the hell is my daughter ?"
"Oh, balls," says the Master.
It is simply too nauseating to claim that he is the Doctor; despite the instant trust and access it might grant him in various places, he would have to be constantly smashing himself in the head with something heavy to make up for his disgust. He lets Jackie come up with a suitable identity instead.
"You must be his brother," she says, sizing him up over that morning's coffee, grown slightly cold. "I've seen your face before. In some of the pictures Rose sends through the holo-thingie." He has managed to persuade her that this is an identical ship, not the Doctor's ship, and no that is not Rose's blouse still hanging off the rail, the dirty slob. Jackie sips from her mug. "Unless all timewhotsits have that same narrow, ferrety look."
"Half-brother, actually," he replies, giving her coffee cake a meaningful glance. His eyes well up with false tears. "I was tragically neglected." Jackie pushes the entire plate across the table at him, sympathetically, and the Master suddenly wonders if he can't turn this frown upside down.
Metaphorically.
"Jackie Tyler," he says, warmly, trying to exude rainbows and kittens and honesty from his eyes, "do you like meat pies ?" There is a momentary misunderstanding about slang terminology and innuendo, for which he is slapped, after which Jackie apologetically admits a fondness for almost any food that can be bought at the fair. "You're a woman of taste," he says grandly. "How about a trip to one of the greatest fairs in history ? The Crystal Palace, all iron and glass, bursting with unwashed masses just begging to be- er, entertained. And anything you can imagine, fried on a stick."
"I dunno," she says. He can see interest warring with apprehension in the hamster-wheels of her mind. This is the only rational response, if one knows the Doctor. He's going to have to sweeten the deal if this kidnapping is going to run at all smoothly. "Is it all going to go wrong like it usually does ?"
"No, no." He pats her arm. "I'm a much better driver than that- person."
"You'd have to be." Jackie gives him a stern look. "I wouldn't let my boy get in that machine unless I could be sure we're coming home safe."
"Of course," the Master says, and then stops. "Your boy ?"
"TONY-YYY," Jackie bellows, leaning back in her chair. "GET UP AND COME DOWNSTAIRS, TIME TO MEET YOUR UNCLE MASTER." There is a long silence, and then the pounding of tiny feet above their heads and the sound of a small excited child making airplane noises. Jackie beams at the Master and he looks around cheerfully for an object that he can use to kill her, or himself, in any order. In a moment the thing called Tony appears in the doorway in short pants and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Water Buffalos t-shirt, with mismatched socks.
"Haven't got an Uncle Masters," he says, suspiciously. "Are you an imposter ?" The Master breaks into a perfectly reasonable, grown-up sweat.
"Don't be rude," Jackie says, ruffling the boy's hair as she stands up and heads for the hallway. "I'm going to get dressed, I'll be back in two shakes. Entertain our visitor for a minute. He's related to the Doctor, you remember the Doctor, you met him once. He calls on the video phone with your sister sometimes."
"The skinny man ?" says Tony. "His suit smelled like socks."
"Tony Tyler," the Master says, breaking into an enormous smile. "How wonderful to meet you." He watches Jackie disappear up the staircase, then kneels down and looks the boy in his grubby small face. Plans are rapidly changing. "You seem like a bright lad. Do you by any chance like- guns ?"
"DO I EVER," says Tony.
"He's got my WHAT," Rose shrieks, into her phone. "TONY ? When ? Why ? How did he- no of course not, we're stuck on- no, I don't think he'll- he wouldn't dare, mum, calm down," she cuts in. "We'll get him back. We'll get him back, I promise. The Doctor promises, too. Okay. I'll call you when we've got something- yeah. I love you." She flips the handset shut and slips it into her pocket, turning to the Doctor. "It's him. Somehow he got the TARDIS to cross over, he met my mum on Pete's world."
"JAM ?" asks the Doctor, concerned. His mouth is still flaked with paint chips from gnawing the doors. He fists his hands in his hair. "JAMPOSSIBLE."
"I know," she shakes her head, "but he did it. And now he's taken off with my baby brother. He's got Tony and God knows where they are in the universe." He rubs her arm comfortingly. "Yeah. Tony's a smart boy. He'll be okay." She wipes away the slight sting of tears from her eyes. "First things first, we should try to track their signal." He pulls her closer and whispers something urgently into her ear. "Yes, I know. And you need a biscuit. This is going to wear off, isn't it ?"
"Jam," says the Doctor.
There are only so many fires you can set at the Great Exhibition without attracting unwanted attention.
"I think they want to kill you," says Tony, from the back seat of the Master's brand-new steam-powered tank, cobbled together from several of the displays and puffing a fantastic cloud of lung-searing black smoke mostly for show. In front of them, men with uniforms and rifles are assembling in a line. The Master is rolling over a Jacquard loom and several model factories and cackling to himself. "You're not paying attention," Tony yells. Rifle fire hits the upper chamber, sending bullets back in a dangerous ricochet. The Master shifts into a higher gear. Through the slot in the front of the tank, Tony can see the frightened soldiers scattering to the left and right, and the large glass wall in front. Thinking quickly, Tony clambers up into the firing mechanism.
"What are you doing ?" the Master shouts. Tony ignores him, and pulls the handle. An enormous shell explodes the back wall of the building, and the Master laughs with glee. He ramps up the speed and the tank pitches through the busted hole, rumbling down a slight hill into a fountain and decapitating twelve cherubs. Water suddenly begins to rise under their feet. "Whoops," says the Master, popping the hatch. He clambers out and, after a long pause, reaches back in to drag Tony out by his collar. "You," he says, in a tone of interest, as they leg it away from the scene, "are a natural at destruction. Your sister is a lost cause, but you-"
"I thought you were going to hit those people," Tony accuses.
"So did I!" the Master says. "I missed. Don't be disappointed. I have an idea."
Back at the TARDIS, he flips the dials and programs new coordinates, and once again there's a terrible piece of turbulence in the middle. They're flung around the ship as the console sparks and flashes angry warning lights, and in the midst of the panic the Master remembers something that Rose may have babbled about a few times, parallel etcetera-etcetera. Something parked outside Jackie's kitchen window. "Tony," he says, "does your family own a zepplin ?"
"Two," he says proudly.
"Crap," says the Master.
"There!" Rose points to the vidscreen and claps her hands together, pleased. "They just blinked back onto the sensors." The Doctor rolls over and pushes his glasses back up. "Can you follow the signal ?"
"I'll jam," he says, and the tech behind the sensor display giggles softly to herself. "It's a medical condition," he adds, defensively.
"Thanks again for all of this," Rose says warmly, to the Judoon captain standing stiffly by the computer bank. She pats his wrist gauntlet in a friendly manner, much like the eyelash-fluttering that got them escorted to central command instead of shot for trespassing in the first place. "I can't tell you how much we appreciate it. You've just been so lovely, picking us up, helping me find my brother. I'm really grateful."
"Bloon joon hoon brigoon floon," he replies, tilting his horn and standing pigeontoed. The Judoon waves his hand in an aw-shucks gesture, and the Doctor scowls. "Bloon bloon dignoon mooyoon moo-"
"Watch it," the Doctor cuts in. "That lady's spoken for." Rose rolls her eyes.
"Foon foon," the captain says.
"I JAMMING WELL AM NOT," says the Doctor, rising from his chair, and Rose steps between them, indicating the screen. "Oh! They've stopped. Looks like a candy factory in Delta Five. Can't imagine what he's doing there, probably poisoning the local- never mind," he says, watching Rose's horrified expression. He decides to change topics. "That tracker's really come in handy. I should put one on you," he adds, glancing at Rose with a slightly devious grin. "Can't stop you from wandering off, might as well tag the migration." She winks, and turns back to their escort.
"So," she purrs. "How fast are your ships ?"
"WE ARE THE ROBOT DEATH MACHINES FROM SPACE, AND WE'VE COME FOR ALL YOUR CANDY," Tony hollers, and leaps off the jump seat, landing on the grates with a painful thud, rolling into a ball, jumping back onto his feet and aiming a finger-gun in the direction of the Master. "BOOM CRACKA-CRACKA-CRACKOW. ROBOT DEATH CEREAL WITH COCOA CRUNCHIES."
"Can you repeat that ?" The Master glances up from the little notebook he's been writing everything in. "Death cereal with what ?"
"COCOA MURDER CRUNCHIES," says Tony. He drops his arms to his sides and looks strangely sad. The sugar may be wearing off, the Master thinks. And his little project was on such a roll. "I'm hungry again."
"Yes, good, fine." The Master flips the pages. "Just a few more. So far we've got Robot Death Surprise Box, Robot Death Rollercoaster Accident, Robot Death Laser Arm Cannon- I like that especially- Super Flaming Robot Death Flamethrower, Hugging Robot- let us never speak of it again- and Robot Death Cereal with Cocoa Murder Crunchies. They could use a little polishing, but valuable suggestions, all." He beams down at Tony. "You have a gift."
"I'm hungry," Tony whines. "I want a sandwich."
"A robot death sandwich ?" asks the Master. A leading question. It fails to get a reaction from Tony, so he shrugs and throws the lever, spins the handwheel a half-turn, and pulls the parking brake at the last possible second. There's a small thud from outside. "Want to go out first, and see what we hit ?"
It turns out to be a Balbusian policeman and his friends.
"He's not really my uncle," says Tony, after they're cornered in the market square, the Master brandishing a pickaxe and the Balbusi equivalent of a Barbie doll in his defense. "I just met him today and he said he'd take me for a ride and give me candy." Sixteen pairs of eyes belonging to four police officers roll angrily in the Master's direction.
"He's lying!" He looks down at Tony, whose expression has made a sudden shift towards angelic and winsome. "Look at him! He's pure evil! He invented the Robot Mango Death Surprise!"
"Come with us, sir."
"My sister warned me about that sort of person. She was real specific," says Tony, sagely, taking the hand of the largest Balbusi policewoman. She pats his head. "Can I make a phone call ?" Behind them, the Master is being turned upside-down and stuffed into a prisoner transport with an onboard automatic decontamination rinse. There is a gurgling high-pitched scream of several phrases which the TARDIS refuses to translate. "You should never say naughty words like that," says Tony.
"Quite right, little fleshy one," she agrees.
"You smell terrific," says Rose, when they open the cell doors. "What is that, ginger and gladiola ?"
"Shut up," says the Master.
"Don't tell her to jam," says the Doctor, angrily. "When you're the jam who jammed up the whole thing in the first place."
"I'm telling," says Tony, automatically. "Can we stop for ice cream on the way home ? In both universes ? Make him promise not to poison me, Rose."
"He promises."
"No, I don't," says the Master, bitterly.
"He really does," says Rose.