As flattered as I am by your flattered attentions (the plastic daffodils were a nice touch, even if they were murderous), I have to say I think you've got things backwards. You see, I haven't been looking for your evil plots - well, except for that one time I stole your dematerialization circuit, but you stole mine, too, so it was fair.
And don't look at me like that, because I did give it back.
I don't know what you have to say about velvet, what with all the black you wear these days. That Johnny Cash song wasn't meant to be a way of life, and anyway I think you've completely missed the point.
I don't suppose you'd like to brag a little about that death trap of yours?
As always, The Doctor
P.S. You haven't seen my hat, have you? The black bowler. It went missing the last time I was running from your hypnotized minions, and I'd like it back - it belonged to Patrick Macnee.
{OOC: Seeing as how I've been watching lots of Three!era recently, and pining, pining for a Delgado!Master... I couldn't resist. *hangs head*
( ... )
Black is functional, practical and stylish. Its sharp lines and stark uniformity effortlessly convey a universal statement of authority and superiority without resorting to foppish extremes. When people look at me, they intuitively grasp that I am to be attended to carefully and obeyed dutifully in all matters.
I am also given to understand that it can have something of a slimming effect -- one I am certain you will wish to look into.
Cordially yours, The Master
P.S. I'm certainly not wearing it at this very moment.
Either that, or "I'm colourblind and this is the only way I can pick out clothes in the morning without some sort of dreadful fashion faux pas". While there's a lot to be said for black in moderation, or at funerals, you, as always, took a good thing to extremes and ruined it.
And I haven't the slightest clue what you're implying.
Colourfully yours, The Doctor
P.S. Of course you're not. I don't suppose you'd be willing to work out some sort of terms for its return?
As I sit here in my modern, comfortable, well-appointed, fully functional TARDIS, sipping vintage pressed-zapple cider from the finest orchards of Old Gallifrey while Rassilon's long lost "Adagio for the Agonies of Pythia" plays around me, I find myself contemplating that old adage so succinctly summed up by the words "Be Prepared". The universe, after all, is a flimsy, mortal thing; its people are given to tumbling out of airlocks here, ageing away to nothingness there, and generally exploding, suffocating and being eaten and the like.
I feel it only apt - and efficient! - that my accoutrements may readily assume a funereal air given the rather irrevocably fatal condition of existence.
Appropriately yours, The Master
P.S. I've always liked terms. Except that Second Spring term of our third year in the Academy. That was incredibly boring.
Comments 13
As flattered as I am by your flattered attentions (the plastic daffodils were a nice touch, even if they were murderous), I have to say I think you've got things backwards. You see, I haven't been looking for your evil plots - well, except for that one time I stole your dematerialization circuit, but you stole mine, too, so it was fair.
And don't look at me like that, because I did give it back.
I don't know what you have to say about velvet, what with all the black you wear these days. That Johnny Cash song wasn't meant to be a way of life, and anyway I think you've completely missed the point.
I don't suppose you'd like to brag a little about that death trap of yours?
As always,
The Doctor
P.S. You haven't seen my hat, have you? The black bowler. It went missing the last time I was running from your hypnotized minions, and I'd like it back - it belonged to Patrick Macnee.
{OOC: Seeing as how I've been watching lots of Three!era recently, and pining, pining for a Delgado!Master... I couldn't resist. *hangs head* ( ... )
Reply
Black is functional, practical and stylish. Its sharp lines and stark uniformity effortlessly convey a universal statement of authority and superiority without resorting to foppish extremes. When people look at me, they intuitively grasp that I am to be attended to carefully and obeyed dutifully in all matters.
I am also given to understand that it can have something of a slimming effect -- one I am certain you will wish to look into.
Cordially yours,
The Master
P.S. I'm certainly not wearing it at this very moment.
Reply
Either that, or "I'm colourblind and this is the only way I can pick out clothes in the morning without some sort of dreadful fashion faux pas". While there's a lot to be said for black in moderation, or at funerals, you, as always, took a good thing to extremes and ruined it.
And I haven't the slightest clue what you're implying.
Colourfully yours,
The Doctor
P.S. Of course you're not. I don't suppose you'd be willing to work out some sort of terms for its return?
Reply
As I sit here in my modern, comfortable, well-appointed, fully functional TARDIS, sipping vintage pressed-zapple cider from the finest orchards of Old Gallifrey while Rassilon's long lost "Adagio for the Agonies of Pythia" plays around me, I find myself contemplating that old adage so succinctly summed up by the words "Be Prepared". The universe, after all, is a flimsy, mortal thing; its people are given to tumbling out of airlocks here, ageing away to nothingness there, and generally exploding, suffocating and being eaten and the like.
I feel it only apt - and efficient! - that my accoutrements may readily assume a funereal air given the rather irrevocably fatal condition of existence.
Appropriately yours,
The Master
P.S. I've always liked terms. Except that Second Spring term of our third year in the Academy. That was incredibly boring.
Reply
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