dear_mun | (no subject)

Oh, now isn't this cute: you mull over a few things — time, space, fate, science, the Doctor — and you reach the conclusion that you miss me! I almost feel like we should be gearing up for a hug, a cuppa, and a nice little heart-to-heart consisting of a multitude of "it's not you, it's me"s.

But I feel we've reached a point in our relationship where we can be truly honest with one another, and with that in mind, I can assure you that it is you. Boredom and I have never been the best of friends, but you seem insistent on keeping him around — and please, vague references to 'times gone past' and killer chairs, as it was so delightfully phrased, is hardly going to enthral me. The Doctor might have a fondness for reminiscing, but I've got far better things to be doing with my time.

—Speaking of: hop to it. The clock's a ticking and my patience only lasts for so long. I'm sure there are a few paces out there with, oh, I don't know, a pet or two to keep me amused. I hear they need plenty of attention and frequent walks to keep them healthy, happy and entertained, and we wouldn't want anyone to miss out, would we?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Just this expression for the longest time.]

Why not find somewhere where you are the pet?

[Yes, he's a bit bitter. He recently buried the Master.]

How about not. I prefer something a bit grander.

[He scratches the back of his head.]

And that's why you fail.

[Not loose, of course, but fail.]

Just try not to get shot this time, will you?

You say that like it's a habit.

Well, we do tend to 'die' a lot.

Even more than the Doctor, which is saying something.