(Untitled)

[bit_impossible]

Characters: bit_impossible, best_served_hot, mib_agent_k
Location: The Plane Library
Time: First day of the monkey shenanigans
Summary: A quest for knowledge isn't always an easy one--but this one really takes the cake.
Warnings: It's two Time Lords, an Agent, and homicidal monkeys. Violence, snark, glares, and a TON of running will be involved.
Notes: Posting order is Ten, Master, K

Comments

[best_served_hot]

The Master's steps were slow, sure and quiet as he walked up but didn't close the distance between them fully. His newly remade laser screwdriver was tucked away safely in his own pocket and it was nice to have the familiar weight there again.

There are many reasons he keeps his distance though none of them are fear. Anger, certainly. Hatred, of course. Safety is paramount though and he isn't quite feeling ready to wind up with another screwdriver thrust into his stomach, however delightful it sounds. His main reason is uncertainty, the mannerisms are familiar but he doesn't care to jump to premature conclusions. He knows why he is here, the note he received is tucked into his inside jacket pocket.

"Predictable," he says, not raising his voice above a casual conversation tone. "Didn't I mention?"

[most_feared]

Kay didn't know contestant A or contestant B. He did know, however, that he had a mysterious note with a call number from a library in the middle of wherever the fuck this was left turn at Albuquerque bum fucked Egypt outer space. So, naturally, he was curious.

He had only heard bits and pieces of the goings on around the Plane, so he wasn't quite sure of the danger. But being aware there was some sort of danger was enough to have him on guard and his hackles raised. He cleared his throat quietly as he came up behind the two gentleman (neither of which seemed to be in the best of moods, another reason for him to be on edge) and tucked his hands into his pockets.

"Excuse me," he started lowly, and politely. "You two here for call numbers?"

[bit_impossible]

Considering their last encounter, the Doctor was mildly surprised to hear such a tone from the Master. Still, he spun around anyway--almost comically, like a kid caught trying to sneak a sweet before supper--and pulled a face at him

[best_served_hot]

"Oh joy, the triumphant return to yourself then? I'm so pleased," he says, tone taking on an icy note as he levels a glare on the Doctor.

The Master shifts, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets, favoring the other man with a somewhat disinterested look. Obviously American by the accent and by the dress a government type perhaps?

"Tell him to stop whenever you like but I can't promise it will work. He'll talk you to death if given the chance, I'm certain." His tone and mood suddenly shift though and he grins widely. "Oh, did we all get notes, that makes us all friends, doesn't it? We can skip merrily into the library holding hands now."