(no subject)

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

[With a distinct lack of ceremony, a man abruptly appears on the Plane. He is thin and sly, perhaps vaguely reminiscent of a weasel, and dressed in the working uniform of the Celestial Intervention Agency, for those who would recognise it. His tired, weary look is quickly replaced with one of surprise when arrives, and he is instantly wary.]

No. No, this isn’t the Matrix. We would have noticed if there had been a Matrix door this close to the Cloisters. This shouldn’t be possible.

[He turns in a circle, observing his surroundings with an air of suspicion.]

Commander Hallan?

Madame President? ...Romana?

[There is no answer, and Narvin begins to look even more alarmed. He makes another turn, this time taking in the mismatched mix of buildings and objects that are on the Plane. Unamused with the entire situation, he crosses his arms, his tone acerbic.]

If whoever is behind this would care to reveal themselves, now would be an excellent time. I must return to Gallifrey. I don’t have the time for whatever game this is.

[...there's probably a joke to be made here about a Time Lord not having any time.]

Comments

[collector]

[Braxiatel was enjoying tea at his hot mahogany desk. It was Japanese black tea, for the record, and the leaves go at a thousand dollars a pound in modern currency. Braxiatel is so startled that he spills his tea over the holoscreen he was looking at, and the whole thing short circuits.]

[In very quick succession, shock jumps straight over to horror, which then slides smoothly into a sense of 'What did I do to deserve this?' Then Braxiatel shrugs, remembering a handful of things he has done which might make one think he deserves this. This acceptance helps Braxiatel slide back into the final stage of acceptance: wry, dry, smug half-amusement.]

[Mind you, the smugness is now somewhat tempered by the tea that is on his desk, which he is now mopping up with his handkerchief.]

My dear Coordinator. How good it is to see you! Come, sit. I'll explain everything. Well, most of it, anyway.

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

[For Narvin's part, his surprise at seeing Braxiatel is only surpassed by his surprise that Braxiatel is actually offering to explain something. He crosses his arms, attempting impassivity but only managing irritation.]

Cardinal Braxiatel. It would you, wouldn't it?

[collector]

No, it wouldn't be, Narvin, but your paranoia is a credit to the CIA as always. Would you care for some tea? Don't worry; this tea is too charming to poison.

[Braxiatel offers his now-wet handkerchief one last despairing look before setting it aside, then starts clearing away papers from his desk's surface. Conveniently, this removes that sketch he always keeps on his desk, the one of a woman with a wry smile and a proud tilt of the chin, completely out of sight as it gets buried under other papers.]

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

I would care for an explanation, Braxiatel.

[But he takes a seat nevertheless, finding some small bit of private amusement that his appearance so startled the unshakable Cardinal. He misses the sketch, but he does cast a glance over the paperwork -- he's not looking for anything in particular, but knowledge in any form is always helpful.]

[madamemoiselle.livejournal.com]

Another Time Lord?

{She smiles a little} You're not really far from Gallifrey, actually. You can just go back there by thinking about it.

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

[Provided with this interesting information, Narin can't help but to focus on one thing in particular:]

How did you know I'm a Time Lord?

[madamemoiselle.livejournal.com]

Oh, I can hear your hearts. Time Lords are the only people I've met with two, so I just assume by now.

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

You can hear them.

[...okay, she has excellent hearing. Noted and filed away for future reference.]

And returning to Gallifrey is done how, exactly?

[brandyhabit.livejournal.com]

[well someone has to make that joke, haven't they]

Not having the time? That's rather over the top for someone meant to be lording over it.

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

[He's not really in the mood for jokes, so Bernice gets a look of deadpan irritation.]

Hilarious, I'm sure. And you are?

[brandyhabit.livejournal.com]

You lot were always known for your sense of humour, weren't you? Professor Bernice Summerfield. I would offer to shake your hand, but we hardly even know each other yet.

[looks him over]

Well, from the looks and sounds of you I would say you aren't a Doctor or a Brax or a Lord Founder of any variety, or any other sort I've met before. That's refreshing at least. I was almost convinced I'd keep meeting the same five of your kind ten times over.

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

[...]

...I am certainly not Braxiatel, to my great fortune. I am Coordinator Narvin of the Celestial Intervention Agency.

[bonnypiperlad]

[He won't make the joke, but Jamie does in fact recognize the colors and the pattern of the CIA in that particular outfit Narvin happens to be wearing. And - as he's just re-appeared on the Plane himself just a few moments ago - jumps to a bit of a conclusion. He stalks over, but keeps his voice quiet while he talks.]

Look, I don't know how ye managed to follow me here, but it'll not do ye any good. The Doctor said he'd contact you lot once he had the information, and we don't have it yet.

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

[Narvin isn't quite sure what to make of this, so he just scowls at the mention of the Doctor. Damn renegade.]

I don't know who you are, and I certainly know better than to get my information from the Doctor, of all people.

[bonnypiperlad]

Oh, ye don't, do ye? [Jamie's eyebrows go up. He doesn't really believe this to be the case.]

I know ye have files on...well, things. It's part of what ye do. Ye can't mean to say ye don't have them on the Doctor and myself?

[muttered] The one who restored my memory knew who I was.

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

Of course I have files on the Doctor. But I can hardly be bothered to remember the name and face of whichever alien assistant he's picked up this week.

[oliverplus]

I hate to say it, but I doubt the Twins are gonna listen to you. They don't seem to be in a hurry to explain much of anything.

[curious--and a bit excited. Time Lords are, of course, the epitome of cool] Did you say Gallifrey? Are you from there, too?

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

[ahaha, Narvin, the epitome of cool? Someone should tell Braxiatel that, he'd probably laugh for days.]

Perhaps. Why?

[oliverplus]

[excited] So you're a Time Lord, too?

[charmandsmiles.livejournal.com]

[takes in the CIA work robes, and makes a face] Blimey, they're letting anyone in these days, aren't they?

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

[Narvin scowls, irritated. He may not know who you are yet, Nine, but he already dislikes you.]

Do you have anything worthwhile to say?

[charmandsmiles.livejournal.com]

[smirks] Depends on what you'd consider "worthwhile."

Sorry for the late tag!

[damn-time-ring.livejournal.com]

[thankfully, he spots Narvin from a distance; it isn't difficult to miss those robes. still, he gasps and debates whether he should just drop from the Plane, run, or take the chance that Narvin's appearance here is mere coincidence and not due to Straxus' being incredibly late to his trial.

...then again, why would Narvin himself come after someone of his stature? he reminds himself of this while he approaches Narvin, his expression showing none of the panic he still feels.]

Coordinator Narvin? I never thought you, of all people, were one to get lost like this.

No worries! <3

[practicalrobes.livejournal.com]

[Narvin turns towards Straxus, irritated. When he catches sight of him, however, there's some vague recognition there. He knows this one, albeit only in passing.]

Lost implies that I had a destination in mind before being brought here.. Abducted is far more appropriate.

...Straxus, isn't it?

[damn-time-ring.livejournal.com]

My, I'm honoured you remember my name. Though you really don't believe you were abducted, do you?