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doctor who (d1) damon

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[Damon is also on the Plane again, looking a bit nervous. But he's trying to sooth his nerves through a bit of good old scientific experimentation. What is he experimenting with?

Drinks! That's right, Damon is at the Astral Bar with an assortment of fruits and liquors, attempting to make a variety of different cocktails. ~~Because all Time Lords are secretly alcoholics.~~ Of course, he doesn't have actual recipes to work with, so it's a bit hit or miss. The only one he's really perfected is the daiquiri (thanks to Straxus), which he is drinking at the moment.]

This is obviously more complicated than it seems...if only there was a proper manual, I'm certain I could learn. [and then, under his breath] At this rate, I'll need to.

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[Completely ignoring Damon, the Master strides over to the bar counter and starts making himself a White Ballistic. Sugar! Cream! Champagne! Ice! God knows what else! He makes it will the ease of practice, then swallows the entire thing in one rather horrifying go before he makes another.]

[Damon watches and frowns, trying to figure out a) who he is and b) how he is making that drink.] What sort of drink is that, if you don't mind me asking?

[Hi, Damon!! Dorothy's drinking a Shirley Temple with one of those little cocktail swords full of cherries in it. She sits at the bar and peers over it, trying to get a good look at what he's doing]

They make books for this stuff, y'know. I'd help, but I'm really better at making shots. [...wow, Dorothy. Anyway, she beams at him] I like your dress!

White Ballistic. [Somehow, the process of making one seems to involve setting something on fire.]

[...oh boy, fire. He's 85% certain he knows which Time Lord you are now, Master] And not Gallifreyan, obviously. Where did you find a drink that exciting?

[have a lineface, Dorothy] It's not a dress, it's a robe. [then, more warmly] And a book would be very helpful, but I doubt I could find a decent one on Gallifrey.

Planet Siltra. I was on a date. And then there was an explosion.

[Well, that decides it. There's a momentary look of dislike, but he covers it up politely. Sort of.] I would prefer it if you didn't blow up this particular bar, Master. [thoughtfully] Of course, it may simply replace itself like the drinks.

It wouldn't be the first time someone's blown it sky high. Or whatever. I wasn't there at the time.

[eyebrow] Was the Doctor there?

No. He isn't the centre of the universe, even if he's the centre of yours.

[The Master may never have said anything so completely hypocritical in all his lives.]

[Damon just looks amused at that] He may be a very good friend, but he's hardly the center of my universe. At least, not in the same way he is for you. Unless things have changed drastically since the Academy, which I doubt very much.

[If there's one way to get the Master to go from callous to defensively angry in zero seconds flat, it's bringing up his time at the Academy.]

Query: when are you from, relatively speaking? Before the War, obviously, but that doesn't narrow it down.

[confused] What War? [and then, he shakes his head] The Doctor destroyed Omega not too long ago. Why do you ask?

[The Master was going somewhere with that, but now, he stops.] You mean no one's told you.

[now he's looking nervous again] I'm not entirely certain I want to know.

[He smiles, slow and cold] Oh, but Damon. Everyone else knows. The Doctor. Omega. Straxus. I wonder why they didn't tell you? Perhaps because you're more sheltered than all of us. After all, even Straxus has left home. They're probably right. You couldn't handle it. My lips are sealed.

[Damon sets down his daiquiri, pushing his nerves aside] Tell me. I've handled one massacre already without breaking...I don't want to be sheltered.

[through his sealed lips, he says, "Rocks fall, everyone dies," but as his lips are pressed together, it comes out as "Mmm mmm, mm-mm-mmm mmm."]

If you don't tell me, I'll pry it out of the Doctor or Straxus, and if they won't tell me, I'll go to Cardinal Braxiatel.

Oh no, the Doctor, Straxus, and Brax. Out of my nightmares, those three. Wait, sorry, forgot. Lips sealed. [He mimes zipping them back up again. Then he stops, incredulity crossing his expression, and unzips them.] And who in their right minds goes to Brax for a straight answer? By the Lost Sextapes of Rassilon, you'd have better luck with Omega.

[Damon flushes a bit at the Master's utter crudeness, and then wryly;] I doubt I would have better luck with Omega. And apparently I would have better luck with Cardinal Braxiatel than I'm having with you.

What can I say? I have a weakness for putting off the reveal. It always has to happen right before the end of the second last episode. Then the finale can be spent cleaning it all up.

[And then he stills, completely, and looks Damon in the eyes] You're dead, Damon. Everyone is dead, except for the Doctor and except for me. Everyone else burned in the Last Great Time War.

[Damon simply stares, utterly and completely in shock] That's...madness. You're not serious... [but he clearly is, and Damon just doesn't want to believe it]

[he tries to form a more coherent thought, but all that comes out is;] Why?

Because it's just that sort of universe. You may not have noticed, but nothing is safe. Not even us.

[carelessly] If you're lucky, you'll die in its opening skirmishes.

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