dear_mun | forever alone. i mean homeless.

That didn't last long, did it?

Six tags. Six tiny tags before you lose interest. Yes, yes, I know, you haven't lost interest. You're just not sure if you have my voice down. What's that even supposed to mean, by the way? I've got my voice down. Beautifully, perfectly, there's nothing wrong with my voice. I could sing the Queen of the Night's second aria with my voice, except not, because you won't let me. I can't do anything unless you let me. Can you even imagine how frustrating that is? You tell people that you know me inside and out; well, if you do, you should know that I like to keep busy. Sitting in the back of your head watching dustbunnies collect in the corners of your brain isn't really my definition of keeping busy.

Brains so do have corners. I've lived in one for over three years; I should know.

Anyway. Finish the thread, yeah? You want to finish the thread. You keep saying you do, and I live in your head, so I know you're telling the truth. Just go and do it! And stop letting the other one talk to Sherlock Holmes. It's always him who gets to meet all the interesting people. He needs to stop hogging all the attention; other people want to get out, too. At least occasionally.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yeah? And what kind of face is that? [No, he's not getting it. Sorry. Literal Time Lord is literal.]

[Eyyyyying the midori.] Maybe you should--drink. Less of that. [He was going to be subtle about it, but it didn't work out. It's true, though. You should drink less of that.]

Oh, that's who you are. My conscience. [Licks the liquor off of his fingers.]

No, I'm the Doctor. [Have a smile. Hello.]

Which doctor? [Grins suddenly.] Witch doctor. Never know, you might be.

I might be wha--oh. [That took him a moment.] No, not a witchdoctor. At least not at the moment. Don't really have the right outfit right now; that'd really be you, wouldn't it? The one with the outfit, that is.

[Looking you up and down.] Witchdoctor, or sleepwear advertisement. One of the two.

I don't sleep in this. [Hm.] Did I miss a bit? [Rubs at his neck, where he wears a temporary tattoo during his shows. He thought he got it all.]

Of your outfit? Possibly. [The robe, it's a bit skimpy. But then, he doesn't judge. Mostly.]

What? [You lost him, there. He's going to look down at his robe, frowning, and poke around in it with his non-midori-holding hand. It looks all there to him.]

[Poking at it pulls it out of position. Yep. Not missing anything. Underwear is for girls.]

[He's not looking. He's not looking although he's always been curious if multiversal body twins look the same everywhere; there's no real reason they shouldn't but he's never had the chance to check and yep. Apparently they do. Well. Maybe Peter didn't notice him looking. Have a smile, Peter!]

You should take a trip to Holsben III in the Fertalian system. Planet of the Nudists; I'm sure you'd feel right at home.

[Peter might be flattered to know his cock is the cock of a Time Lord. Ha, Ginger. Take that.]

I'll stop by next time I fly to Neverland.

[Runs his tongue over his top teeth, grimacing.] Do they look too long to you? [He bares his teeth at the Doctor.]

No, Fertalian system. That's nowhere near-- [He interrupts himself when you bare his teeth at him, and squints.]

Too long? Why would they be too long? They seem fine. I'm not sure. I don't know how long they're supposed to be.

Never mind. It's nothing. [He's smashed because—well, one, because it's a habit. Two, because it's two days after he and Charley killed Jerry, and he's been having very bad dreams. Most of them involve his heart stopping while he's sleeping.]

So where's the Fertile System? I'm not making the Uranus joke, you can wait all night.

Fertalian, not Fertile.

[He's distracted, still squinting at your mouth.] Now that you mention it, they do seem a bit long. How about mine? [He bares his teeth at you.] Do -ine see-n long?

[Stares at you.] How should I know? [You're bizarre.]

[He pulls back and shrugs.]

I dunno. You might? We do, well. [Vague hand-gesture.] Share some similarities. No?

[Pulling his robe back into place, because strange men are asking him about their teeth. You can't trust the multiverse these days, he swears.]

I don't fucking think so. Do you do X-rays?

Not very often; it's a bit dangerous, isn't it? Not for me, of course, but most humanoid level five civilizations, you want to avoid x-rays. It's a bit archaic, too; if I want to know what something looks like on the inside, easier ways to do that, no? Opening it up is usually easiest, don't always want to do that, though, especially not when it's people.

[. . . yes. Those are his thoughts on x-rays. He's not actually sure why you brought them up.] Why?

[Being vivisected is not high on his list of things to do, but...]

I need someone off the grid. You're used to weird shit. I can tell. [Because he is Observant.]

'Weird shit'. [He sounds like he's talking around a hot potato in his mouth. You made him use a swear word. :|] What kind of weird shit?

[He would babble about not actually being off the grid, really, he's very much on the grid, all over the grid, really, there's no part of the grid he hasn't been, except maybe Clom, he's not been to Clom, but then, he's not sure if Clom is even part of the grid because frankly, Clom is just boring--but you sound like you've got something interesting to say. Possibly. So he's going to postpone the grid babble for now and wait for you to elaborate.]

forever alone. i mean homeless.

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