realityshifted | (no subject)

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life on mars (d1) sam tyler

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[sets down various weapons as stolen from Minato's under-the-bed armory. It is worth noting that he's chosen to relax at the bar, and that there is an opened bottle of whisky on the counter]

House fire in Kingston upon Hull, six-year-old boy dead. It's considered an accident.

Ethics in altering the past you know as a fact while back in time: discuss.

[drinks from his glass of whisky]

Or don't.

[and another drink!]

A word, Guv.

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It is highly advised against.

[slides up next to him] You should never ever do it. Unless you know what you're doing.

I could save a life.

You can't know what you're doing until you start doing it.

And destroy countless others for your interference.

The 'learning through mistakes' approach?

[eyeing the whisky, then takes a seat next to Sam, relaxing and pulling out a cigarette] What do you want, Tyler?

Twenty-five more people'll be killed over the next seven years by Dinsdale.

The 'learn as much as you can through theory, then observation, and then actually doing it on your own' approach. ....might've messed things up already anyway.

And his murders could keep other murderers in check. Could kill other murderers before they have a chance to become one. Time is not yours to meddle with, Sam Tyler. Let the world follow it's predetermined path.

[a pause, glancing over at Gene. Then, he punches him] Don't make bets about who I can spend time with. I don't care if you weren't serious; Fumie took it seriously. Who I spend time with is my own business so long as it doesn't interfere with work. [grabs another glass from behind the counter (before Gene can punch him) and pours some whisky into Gene's glass, holding it out to him]

Oi! [grunts in pain, snapping a glare at Sam, but takes the bait and snatches the glass from his DI's hands instead of punching him back. still, that hurt] I'll make any bet I damn well please, Tyler. Not my fault the twit took it seriously. And who's to say it won't interfere? You spend too much time with the girlie. She's a distraction. Not to mention she's twelve. [takes a long drink] That's pretty disgusting company, Dorothy.

[mildly] If Manchester hasn't imploded or been attacked by Reapers yet, then you can't have messed up too horribly.

Or he could've killed the ancestors of someone who could've, through the chain of cause an effect, created a perfect Utopia out of the universe.

Death comes to visit when you mess with time?

[oh look; he's learning to filter out jokes about pedophilia, too. At this rate, Sam will be entirely deaf to all insults, Gene] Time doesn't pass here, so she's not any sort of distraction. Or haven't you noticed that my paperwork never takes up office hours anymore?

There are no utopias, boy. There cannot be. Life does not work that way.

[that's okay. he'll come up with more inventive ones as time goes on. as it is, he's just giving you a very blank stare right now] You say that as if I bother looking at the bloody paperwork that comes across my desk.

Actually, Death is very nosy. Wouldn't be surprising to see her mucking around. Time, too, for that matter. But Reapers are entirely different. Creatures that feed off paradoxes and in that way fix them.

Please don't call me 'boy,' TARDIS.

Try for a better explaination than that.

Of course you don't. [muttered] 's why you don't notice that I fix up everyone else's paperwork.

Very well. Forgive me, Sam Tyler.

All right then. Think of a paradox or unnatural time alterations as bacteria that Reapers act as white blood cells to. 'Course, the latter usually leads to implosions, so! You're not imploded yet.

Just 'Sam' is fine.

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