“Now this is what I call premium koalaty entertainment!”
“With apologies to the Master for that particular pun.”
// @masterfulxrhythm – she’s punning again. I should never have let her get a hold of a pun meme… xD
“ … God is dead and you’ve killed her.”
He says nothing further, but limps off in the opposite direction, head cocked at an odd angle, as if the effort to restrain himself from strangling her is so great that it manifests in psychosomatic agony.
last of the time lords simm!master is honestly such a mood. dying your hair bleach blond for no apparent reason? only wearing a black hoodie and black trousers? constantly hungry? an absolute attention whore? a horny bitch?
He exhales and it turns into a snarl of incomprehensibly frustrated affection. He snatches a few levers, wrenches and assorted power tools into his arms and gives chase.
“Look, at LEAST let me run a few tests! Doctor! DOCTOR! I know you can hear me … Hearts, you look like a drunken baby giraffe, slow DOWN … ! I SEE you smiling, damn it!”
Imperiousness swift becomes desperation.
“It’s fine! Bit burn-y, but it’ll be fine!”
She won’t let him test her screwdriver because she knows he’ll improve it. He always was the clever one. She doesn’t care if the screwdriver explodes in her hand later, as long as it gets the current job done.
Luck is not on the Doctor’s side. Coordination all over, she catches her foot on something she herself left lying around, and finds herself sprawled on the floor a second later. Stubborn even now, she clutches the screwdriver to her chest.
“See, it didn’t even explode when I fell on it!”
“Aaaa-aahhhh, see! SEE. You could have let me catch you. And you know I’m right about everything else, too.”
The Master brays this with a cackle. He saunters smugly over to his best friend and perches right on her back, effectively pinioning her.
“Now, were someone to ask me, ‘Master, what IS it like to live with the most brilliant, courageous, beautiful woman in the cosmos?’ I would just say, ‘well, George,–’ George is a good name for an interviewer, don’t you think?–anyway, I’d say, ‘George, she’s mad as a hatter, but if you let her run her course, and accept your inevitable role as her catcher, why then, it’s quite a lark.’”
All this, conversationally, while he uses her as a chair for his tight little rump.
Icarus 