realityshifted

On what? Air? You don't even have a bloody tree to run into you div, don't give me that. You ran into someone's fist and I hope to God it was mine.

Savannas have trees, you bloody idiot, just not the same as those you would find in Manchester. So I assure you, you are the one mistaken.

Wouldn't matter: you're too short to hit a branch, anyway.

Neither could you, Mr. Hunt, seeing as we're the same bloody height.

And I don't bosh my head on trees you ponce. So who'd you come to fists with? Roberto Duran?

Trees in the savanna are shorter, cretin.

No. Mr. Duran gets to keep his victory streak - I fought with no one. The only likely candidate would be you, and you were drunk enough where you couldn't have hit a brick wall with your Cortina.

Wouldn't know: I live in civilisation, Chiquita.

[have an incredulous stare, Master] Depends. Are you in the Cortina when I ram it into the wall? [sighs, rubbing his nose, then his back...and pauses. whaaaat are these bumps? they feel like...scratches?] ...the hell...?

Well, aren't you a lucky one.

[he laughs] That wouldn't kill me, Mr. Hunt. I've survived being incinerated.

[thought he pauses as well as Gene goes on, and he cocks his head just slightly]

Actually, yes, I am. Moreso if you'd stop being a pain in my arse.

[frowns, then twists around so he can see his back, lifting his shirt to do so. and hello there, claw marks. have a nasty look, Master] ...oh you bloody bastard. [he's going to punch you now]

[the Master doesn't hesitate with any more talk when Gene throws the punch; instead he moves quickly to deflect the blow before throwing a punch of his own - aimed for Gene's gut]

[today is the day for Gene to get hit in the stomach, it would seem. and it hurts, too, if him doubling over is any indication. but that's okay, because he comes back swinging] The hell did you do this time, you great poofter?!

[he's hit this time, and he painfully hisses and stumbles just a bit - damn, the man could hit when he needed to

the Master bares his teeth at Gene]

I don't bloody well remember after a few hours of drinking with you.

[he spits the last word as if it's an insult]

Which means I won, you div.

[frowns, though, because haha, he can't remember either, but...] ...where did you wake up?

It means nothing, you were drunk as well.

[he grunts just a bit, but its easy to tell that he's raking over his memories to recall]

... I was still a bit - hazy - at the time. I don't rightly recall where.

You were drunk first. That's all that matters.

[is giving you a hard look, Master] I was on my couch this morning. Doesn't account for some of the night, though. If you were anywhere near my house, Cleo...

You can't prove that.

[is smirking back at you, Gene] Why, afraid we did something?

You're a lightweight, so yes I can.

[scowls] Bleedin' faerie. Touch me and I break your fingers.

I can alter my body's metabolism to make it so that I could drink for 14 bloody days and not get even the slightest bit drunk. I didn't to make it fair for you.

[he grins widely] Seems a bit too late for that, Mr. Hunt.

...so you're a cheat, too? There's no proof you didn't do that while we were out. I bloody knew you couldn't be trusted, you right bastard.

[have a punch to the face, Master]

[and he's hit again, but afterwards rushes Gene]

Are you selectively deaf, you pathetic relic? I purposely fit my metabolism to be that of the human equivalent of a man in my physical age range, weight, and height. I wanted to prove that I could bloody well keep my word when I wanted to, and I was not about to cheat to prove it.

[he tries to give Gene a smash in the face as well]

I may be a murderer, I may be a madman, but when I am out to prove something about myself, I'm not going to cheat in it! That is just admitting that I am wrong!

[and wow, that punch to the face bloody well hurt, Master] And I still don't bloody well believe you can! Just because you're a Frenchie bastard with a poofter beard doesn't make you a blasted alien, now does it?

And I have no reason to believe a word that comes out of your mouth after you made me drop a kid off a building, now do it?

[suddenly, for emphasis, he's using Gene's voice] And I suppose the lower temperature of my body is just a cold? And that your bloody Cortina suddenly grew wings and flew to get on top of that building?

You're an idiot, Mr. Hunt, there is more to your bloody world that just your Manchester and humanity. So what if I made you drop the boy from the roof - it makes no difference in this discussion!

[okay, that's kinda creepy and Gene backs off] I'm a police officer and you had to murder someone. As far as I'm concerned, the world is better off without you.

[he slips back into his regular voice and rubs where Gene punched]

If there were no murderers, you'd be out of a job.

[he sneers]

If it is any consolation, I had intended on retiring before I had been forced back into the business.

I could handle unemployment if it meant there weren't any scum on my streets.

[crosses his arms] Because someone held a bloody gun to your head and said 'kill,' I'm sure.

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