realityshifted

. . . Oh, this. This. Is. Gorgeous.

No, really, I mean it. I've seen a lot of things -- more things that you'd think I ever would, given my youthful and altogether handsome appearance, -- but this place. Brilliant! So flash! So shiny! Well, they're stars, how could they not be shiny? Although, strictly speaking, stars are more luminous than shiny. But you can't use luminous in an interjection. Too many syllables. Can't be spouting off exclamations of surprise if it takes more than a second. Wouldn't really be surprised, then -- it'd sound too premeditated to be genuine.

So! The shop's the gateway, yeah? Never seen it before today, and I'd figured I'd gotten used to this version of London by now. Still, always did like a little shop, but it feels a bit wrong that it'd be used for sinister purposes like this -- after all, I can't really see this as being positive, the whole kidnapping and displacing thing. I guess you really can't ever trust a salesman. Or a saleswoman. Or a salestwin, as the case might be.

But right, anyway! Sinister little shop leading to a mysterious planetarium taken to an extreme scale? I might be new to this universe, still, but I'm reasonably sure this wouldn't be considered normal.

Now, who wants to offer an explanation before I call for back-up? And you might want to be quick about it -- I like calling for back-up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oi, wait, sorry, hold on. So you're not me-me? Other-me me, that is? You're just-- me? Ish?

[Letting out a breath] Oh, this is gonna get confusing.

No, see, I'm you. Well, no. All right. This is...

[he feels like he needs diagrams now] Okay. All right, basically, there's three of us. Well, now there's three of us. One that was traveling with Donna, me with the Master and erm...what are you doing?

-- Traveling with Donna sounds about right for the other-me. Or at some point it would have, anyway, if what I think happened did, in fact, happen.

. . . Oh, I'm in Pete's World. Torchwood staff. Last thing I'd figured I'd be doing, but there you are.

Right then! That's the me you want. Erm, hullo anyway, though. [waves]

...What? Torchwood? Really?

You're traveling with the Master? Really?

. . . How's that working out?

-- Yeah, I know, sounds strange. Different regime, though. Decent team. A bit thick about the negative impacts of messing about with reality-hopping, but they've been straightened out since I've been there.

Better than it sounds. Well, usually. Not always. It is him and all. But not so bad.

Oh, good. Not much else to do, I suppose? Why are you human, anyway? Because you're still me.

Still. Can't imagine that being a laugh a minute with him in the TARDIS, tell you the truth.

. . . Oh! Right. Instantaneous biological metacrisis, that's me. Half-regenerated, shot the energy into my handy-dandy hand, Donna touched the hand and , I grew out of Donna.

Not really, no. But I didn't really know what else to do with him. And he's getting better. Well, sometimes he is. Sometimes he's not.

Donna? Oh, that's an interesting mix. Well! Usually that doesn't turn out as planned but you seem all right.

Yeah, well. Still, he's unpredictable. Usually. Could consider giving him up to a zoo.

-- Do I? Well, I'll take that as a compliment, I think.

I could but then what happens when some kid climbs over the fence to pet him?

You might have to. Human, though. That can't exactly be, well...

Good point. Glass-enclosed unit?

Can't exactly be what? Comfortable? Pleasant? Agreeable? Satisfactory?

No, not really. Getting used to it, though. Can't be helped.

Maybe. What about air holes, though? And someone has to feed him.

[nods a bit] Yeah but, well. Do you travel much?

Microscopic air holes; and a little latch up top that you drop food into.

Oh, sure. Sort of. Not much, compared to -- well, myself. Only as much as human technology and Earth can allow.

Like a sort of cat flap?

Ah, well. I suppose Torchwood must have a few interesting things at least?

Sort of! Except it'd probably be best to put it on the roof.

Yeah, exciting, I suppose. Alien invasion once a week. Always seems to be Saturdays, doesn't it?

It'd have to be tall. Maybe a protoplasmic bubble, actually? Then he could move around a bit.

Saturdays are always exciting. Good or bad, at least something happens.

[snerks] What, sort of like a giant hamster ball?

Must be a good day to start world domination plots, I suppose.

[grins] Basically, yeah.

But the whole morning is devoted to cartoons then.

Right, yeah, cartoons first, then thwarting would-be evil plans.

Oh yes. Sounds like a typical Saturday, really.

. . . What about you, then? You traveling with the Master -- how'd that happen?

[rubs his neck slowly] You know how...Lucy shot him and it killed him in your universe? He didn't die in mine. So I did exactly what I said I would do. Took him on the TARDIS and have been trying to take care of him.

How long's that been going on for you two, then? And how many murder attempts?

Including the Year? I dunno, about...nearly two years now? [frowns a little] A few. Less than you'd think.

Yeah? I'd expect a number in the double digits for the time you've been with him.

(no subject)

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