The Doctor’s advantage here is that she’s caught her husband deeply engrossed in the technical procedure of merging their TARDISes: specifically, at the moment, finalizing the blueprints for the changed interior. When her finger finds his chest, he looks up, quasi-dazed by his own myopic tendencies during a project.
“What.”
He looks like a peturbed Basset Hound, all rounded edges and big brown eyes and forehead wrinkles: the farthest fling imaginable from the Terror of the Cosmos he is still fully capable of being.
And the more his wife talks, the more Koschei’s apple cheeks darken.
“I, er.”
Oh, worm?Where are your snazzy, self-aggrandizing comebacks now?
Oh dear she’s. Small yet omnipresent and it always gets him going … . how can there be so much longing in the sparest touch?
She commands that he say her name and he is undone like a fool.
“Ah, the apple. The noble apple. So many delectable varieties. The beauty of the red delicious! The bitterness of the granny smith! The sweetness of the yellow delicious and gala and fuji! The bitchy tartness of the pink lady: my favorite!”
The Master begins to impenitently check absurdities off his black-nailed fingers.
“Didn’t recycle a plastic bottle when the recycling bin was two feet away; stole candy from a baby and ate it in front of his weeping fat little tomato-red face; poured red dye in an evangelical church’s swimming pool, prompting panic over Moses 2.0; put gum under an antique chair; ate fish that wasn’t sustainably caught–in front of a vegan; killed the vegan later; kicked sundry puppies; have you caught on to the fact that I’m taking the piss right now?”
This is from an rp I did with A Thirteen who no longer follows me, but honestly, LMAO, it’s still peak ThirteenXSimm content:
“How DARE you, Rose Tyler! What happened to sisters over misters? We were meant to be the bleach-dyed duo and now you’ve gone and spoiled our mojo!”
“You’re tellin’ me that Time Lords have to reduce themselves to bleach? Talk about superior biology. Oh, please tell me hers is bleached, too? We’re not the bleached trio, are we?”
“Well I didn’t exactly bleach my hair during the brief interlude when it was THAT pale a blond; I wouldn’t go for a bottle of Sun-In while I was a cannibalistic electric skeleton running naked about London at Christmastime, now would I? Bit of a complication with being resurrected properly and an angry ex-wife. Some ex-wives want alimony, but mine? Me as a cannibalistic electric skeleton, I suppose, or, you know, rather dead. As for the Doctor, she came out the regeneration with that hair, but I guess we’ll see when her roots grow out.”
Icarus 