realityshifted | (no subject)

Entry tags:

metalocalypse (d1) nathan explosion

(no subject)

[A tall, hulking long haired man appears on the plane.

He stares blankly for a few minutes at his surroundings. Okay.

...Okay.]

Hey. Uh. ...Where am I.

[He stands there stiffly.]

And don't say space. I can- I can see it's... space.

[A beat or two.]

So if, uh, someone could show me... show me the way out. Uhhhh. Thank you. Please. Thank you.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[a very skinny man with long black hair stares back at him] You're on the Astral Plane, mate. The way out's easy enough, you've just got to think about going home. Time won't pass there while you're here, though.

[It is very tempting for the Time Lord lurking nearby to say space. As it is, his next statement holds no useful information and solely intended for his own amusement.]

You click your heels three times and say, there's no place like home.

[Nathan just stares at him.]

What?

[smiles slightly] Which bit do you want me to explain first?

Okay, no, no, I know, uh. That movie. And that movie... didn't have space.

[Yep. God how do people not know Wizard of Oz, what a moron!]

Hey. You're an idiot. This ain't fucking... Wizard of Oz.

That part with the exit. Because, uh. No, I'm pretty sure you can't, uh, do that. What you said.

[laughs] Actually, you can. See? [and he demonstrates, dropping off the Plane, and reappearing again] Just think about it, and walk. It works both ways.

Uhhhhh...

So I just... think about it. That's it.

Yep! Try it. [a pause] Or if you'd rather take a moment to get used to the idea, I can show you where the Astral Bar is. You look like you could use a drink or two.

Oh man, forget leaving. There's a bar?

A bar that constantly restocks itself, no less. The kitchen works the same way, for the record.

Fuck the kitchen. [He seems less than interested in that.] Got fucking... Jean Pierre for that.

[amused] The bar it is, then. [and he leads him to it] Who's this Jean Pierre bloke?

[He raises an eyebrow.]

Am I? Hm, well, there's reading material over that way somewhere. [Hey look, he made the effort to wave in the direction where it might be.] Provided you can read.

[He grins faintly.]

Oh, uh, thanks. And... uh, sorry about calling you, calling you an idiot, you know? Just. Fucking appeared in space.

My chef.

[Nathan is easily lead. He wants booze. Forget leaving, get drunk instead.]

[This smile? Don't trust it.]

Just don't do it again. [Its as nice as he's going to get, if you can call it nice.]

[Nathan has all the observational skills (and, in fact, interacting-with-people skills) of a brick. So odds are he really does take that smile at face value.]

Yeah, yeah, it's cool.

[He wanders over where the brochures are, grabs one, and wanders back over, pulling his reading glasses from his pockets.]

[jealously] You've got your own chef? Now that's just not fair.

[a wry smirk plays at lips beneath eyes rimmed with shadows] Close your eyes and think of England.

Or, you know. Wherever you came from.

It's really just a fancy travel brochure, not much use at all, unless you're going to burn it.

[he gives that some thought to himself for a moment]

Or eat it. Might go good with some sweet and sour sauce. [There is also a baby cheetah shadowing the Master, it decides to pounce and bat at his hand.]

Uh, yeah. I'm rich. Of course I have... I have my own chef.

[He reads it anyway. Or tries to. He gets about three sentences in before his attention wanes.]

I should kill whoever wrote this. Seriously. Plethora. Who the... who the fuck uses 'plethora' in a fucking brochure.

[Nathan stares.]

Yeah, real funny.

[there goes that grin again. He likes this newcomer, he's at the very least a source of amusement.]

Someone with far too much time on their hands, I'm sure.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 4