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doctor who (d1) damon

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[A Lord of Time in the Astral Bar? How shocking! A rather intoxicated (though he has yet to realise it) Damon is mixing himself drinks again, this time with the help of a very useful book he borrowed from the Doctor. The thick, heavy manual is titled "Mixology," and features most classic and popular drinks found anywhere in the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire. Damon laughs as he flips through the pages.]

A screwdriver? I wonder if the Doctor's made a sonic version. He's clever enough to figure it out. That's what I love about him, you know, he's very clever. All of him! But he's very stupid, too. Regenerates too much, it's not...not good. Bad Doctor.

[a thoughtful pause] Not as stupid as Maxil, though. Nobody's as stupid as Maxil. I hate his face. [oh, if only he knew...]

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[And who just happens to be passing by but everyone's favourite CIA Coordinator? He stops when he catches sight of Damon, slightly nonplussed. He's just going to... ignore most of what Damon just said, and instead focuses on the fact that the technician is completely smashed.]

Damon?

[Damon glances up at him, and beams] Narvin! Come have a drink, there's lots! [including the one in his hand, which appears to be rather fruity, like everything else he's been drinking. Fondly;] I love humans.

[Hastily] No, thank you, Damon. I think you've had quite enough for the both of us.

[He's not even going to comment about the humans.]

[confused] What do you mean? It's not as if I can't handle it, you know. We have that very high alcohol...thing. Yes. [gestures at his drink] You really ought to try it, it's called...what's it called? [he glances at the book, and promptly blushes] Oh. That's a very odd name for a drink.

[He is valiantly resisting the urge to facepalm.]

Tolerance, Damon, tolerance. Which I think you've far exceeded, given your current inability to remember even that.

[pouts] But I haven't, though! Can't have. I've had more than this before, and I've been fine.

[unconvinced] Perhaps you're under an experiment.

[rolls his eyes] Yes, they're just sitting around in that shop going "Let's get the Time Lord very very drunk!" That makes lots of sense, Narvin.

[Narvin raises an eyebrow. Apparently Damon is a sassy drunk.]

Can you even walk straight?

[blinks] I don't know, I haven't tried.

[Narvin gestures to the floor.]

Well then, go ahead.

[with a determined look, Damon gets off the stool, and attempts to walk in a straight line. Attempts being the key word here. He's a bit wobbly, and eventually stumbles right into Narvin.]

[With a grimace, Narvin catches him, holding the younger Time Lord upright. He gives Damon a Look, doing his very best to sound like the sharp and prickly head of the CIA that most of the Capitol think he is.]

I think that rather proves my point for me. You need to go home, Damon. Go back to Gallifrey and sleep it off.

[Damon's cheerful mood decreases rapidly at the mention of sleep, and he clings to Narvin.] No, I don't want to. I've got to figure out what they did to me.

[Narvin gives him a flat look, trying to carefully slip out of Damon's grasp.]

Why? So you can forget it when you wake up the next morning? You're cognitively impaired, Damon, and you're certainly not fit to investigate anything.

[Damon gives him a look that says "Bad Narvin, no cookie," and stubbornly does not let go]

I can write things down, can't I? Besides, you can help me! You're good at investigating stuff.

[After listening carefully to the sounds from the bar - the clink and clatter of a great many glasses and uneven nature of Damon's voice - Leela decided to join him at the bar.]

You should not be drinking alone.

[Because he should not be lonely.]

Have you tried a 'martini'?

[aww, Leela. There is a smile in his voice at that] I have, yes. Do you want me to make you one?

Braxiatel said I should try one.

[Which is a wary sort of yes.]

Are they nice?

I think they're nice! I think Braxiatel is nice, too. [pauses, as he begins to mix Leela's martini, which involves chocolate liqueur and strawberries...blame Damon's sweet tooth] I don't...trust him. Not like I trust the Doctor, anyway. But he's very nice.

[She's never tried one and, consequently, won't know if what he's mixed is right or not.]

I do. He ... is not always honest, but he has been a loyal ally and a good friend.

[he hands the ridiculously sweet drink to her eventually, and nods] I'm glad to hear it. It's difficult to trust when people aren't honest, you know. Especially when the whole High Council treated the Doctor like a criminal instead of admitting the truth. Especially when...when someone you thought you could trust turned out to be the traitor who killed your mentor. Especially when...lots of reasons.

[he stops rambling for a moment to focus on his own drink. then, quietly;] But I trust the Doctor, and his companions. [he's including you in that, Leela]

Time Lords are stubborn. They do not always like the truth and, when they do not like it, they hide from it. [And then she remembers who she's talking to.] Most Time Lords.

If you need to talk, I have learned to be good at listening.

[Well, more or less. It was often easier to listen to the things that people did not say, as she was doing now.]

[Damon blushes -- and even though Leela can't see it, she can probably hear the embarrassment] I wish there were people I could talk to on Gallifrey. There was Talor, but...Hedin killed him. [sighs, pouring himself another drink] I suppose that's why I've been coming here more often. And meeting nice people! Not stupid people, like Maxil. Have I mentioned I hate his face?

[She takes an experimental sip of her drink then, after deciding she rather likes it, another and another.

Then, darkly:] I know his face. But I don't think you should let yourself hate, Damon. Even him. I do not want to see you grow cold.

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