dear_mun | Holmes is expanding his vocabulary! \o/

Oh. You engaged with it. [And he doesn't find that disturbingly interesting at all, no he doesn't, except for how he really, really does.] Might I inquire as to the experience? It isn't feasible biologically, of course, without . . . addendums. How did it progress?

[Welcome to ALL OF THE INTEREST. With no social norms to restrain it.]

[Oh. Er. He's just going to blink at you a couple of times. That's a lot of unpoliced curiosity. But then, curiosity is good, and it's not like he's got anything to hide or be embarrassed of, so . . .]

It's not like you get much choice, is it? About engaging. They invented an artifact . . . a piece of technology. I came across it in my work--I work with technology. Some. My work--it's hard to explain. It's got to do with management. Security. Some engineering. And some politics; a lot of it, really, and some-- [He breaks off and clears his throat. He had a point; what was it? Right.]

Anyway. I come across new and unknown technology in my work. They used that to invent something that would give me the ability to--well. Become pregnant. It induced all the biological necessities--or it was supposed to. It didn't give me any more space. [A dry eyebrow-raise as he indicates his abdomen with a small handwave.] Which I'd've been in dire need of.

[Why are you blinking at him? It's a perfectly normal question. And the harder he thinks that, the more true it will be. He is not socially awkward. :|]

A piece of technology to permit pregnancy in males; I should like to take a look at that, if you don't mind. [And you won't, surely, because that's fascinating.] With the required organs? It would compress the liver, and the kidneys should be affected. How did the chemical compounds in the body respond? Was birth natural or surgical?

[Forward. Very forward. That's okay, he likes forward. Sort of. Maybe not so much when you're asking about the way his organs were rearranged during pregnancy. But still. Forwardness is better than backhanded cageyness. He thinks.]

I would, in fact. Mind, that is. Sorry to disappoint; company policy.

[And quickly moving on from that so as not to give you a chance to ask more about it.] It--did something. To the spleen. It was messy. And quite unpleasant. The birth was surgical, and two months early. She--my daughter. Dana. She had to be in an incubator for a while. She was fine, though. She lived.

[Nope; sorry. Not fast enough for him. He will just--speedily cram his question in there, vaguely over-riding you.] It's patented then? [If would have to be, if there was a policy against sharing it. He doesn't think that's the case, though.]

[And, whoa, wait—. What?] It transfigured an organ? While theoretically possible, I've never heard of such a thing. Were the cells not damanged? How did it speed cellular growth? [Because nothing can just grow an organ. Tell him. Explaaaain. This is the best conversation ever.]

[He's going to give a little sniff and a shrug.] Something like that. [Nothing like that at all, in fact, but if that's what it'll take to make you accept that you can't take a look at it, he's okay with misleading you a bit.]

Which cells? A lot of cells were damaged. [Bitter. A little. Pregnancy wasn't fun, okay?] It was a very advanced piece of technology, but as far as we could determine, it was probably a prototype of some sort. [By which he means that yes, it worked, but no, it didn't work very well.]

But not entirely? [Misleading him isn't working. He will politely nag at until it's explained.] Where is it located? [Because he wants to see. The more he knows about it, the more he wants to examine it for himself.] A contraption of that nature on the open market would be . . . [Well, ridiculous. And maybe not a little amusing, as these things go.] Pandamonium. I take it it's under lock and key?

[He's just going to give you a thin, careful smile. He likes curious people. He also knows that they can be dangerous, though. You seem like you could be dangerous. If not to him, then to yourself.]

It is, yes. Tightly.

[And you're not getting to it, is the unspoken message.]

Ah. Right. [Unspoken message received. Loud and clear.] As it should be, of course. [Have a brief, forced smile in return. He was only concerned about its security. Yep. That's it. Nothing more.] One mustn't let something of that nature fall into the wrong hands.

[Like his, for instance? You don't seem to trust him. That may be a sign to your intellect, of course, but he is a trustworthy person.]

Who did you say invented it?

My writer. Obviously. [Come on, you're smart. You know that everything in his, and, in fact, in your world, was invented by the writers. This also gives the Doctor a neat way to avoid actually answering your question.]

[And it's not that he doesn't trust you. It's just that your tone and that glint in your eyes, they remind him of himself. He knows what he would do, were he in your place.]

[Ha. That was clever. He approves. In fact, he would laugh except you've stymied his line of questioning.] Is employing the fourth wall common in the multiverse? Or simply the practice when faced with questions to which one wants to avoid the answer?

Hm? [Now he's just going to fake cluelessness. That's a practice commonly employed by him not only in the multiverse when he's confronted with questions he doesn't really want to answer.] Oh, I don't know. I don't usually get to talk about it, but it seems that different rules apply when I'm here.

[He tilts his head, purses his lips thoughtfully and bounces on the balls of his feet.] It makes sense, if you think about it, considering the purpose of this place is to address your writer. Would be quite silly to come here for the sole reason to do that, and then be forced to ignore the writers' existence in the resulting conversations. Wouldn't it?

[Right; you're getting boring now. Smart people acting stupid for no logical reason is boring. There's a chair, so he's going to recline in it, and light his pipe.]

It seems a mentally unsound convention, when put into practice. One must consider the metaphysics involved, our own incoporeal states. [Inhaling deeply, as though it's all utterly beyond him: a melancholy, wistful thought.] Such an experiment is better left to the philosophers and clerics than scientists.

[Slight, wistful smile. He used to be able to explain the multiverse to anyone who was willing to listen to an incomprehensible, but very enthusiastic lecture on metaphysics. Nowadays, he understands it about as well as any human. But he remembers how it felt to have all the multiversal impossibilities make sense in his head.]

If you pursue science far enough, you end up realizing that philosophy and religion are just a different approach to understanding the same things. As science, that is.

[The Master—the one that goes with this Doctor, human, without the nasty flicker of Time Lord-scale insanity in his eyes—takes up a post near this conversation. He's watching both men intently, but trying not to call any attention to himself.]

[He's not possessive AT ALL. Especially not when a nosy stranger is asking his Doctor about their child.]

[Hello; Holmes sees you, Mister Obvious-Stalking-Man. He's quite observant. But also curious as to what the Master might do besides silently skulk and so will not say anything. Only a flicker of eyes gives away that he notices at all.]

[The Doctor will see that flicker. Because he's also quite observant, even if he tries his hardest not to let people notice. He follows Holmes' eyes with his own. When he spots the Master, he interrupts himself mid-sentence and tilts his head.]

Hello. Why don't you come over here?

[In other words, Master, you're being creepy. Stop it.]

[Nooooooo, being creepy means he gets all of the information from this conversation without having to participate and potentially step in some feelings. Ick.]

Why don't I? [He lilts the question back at the Doctor, mocking his partner's tone.] Because I'm emotionally repressed and don't enjoy being Exhibit B for curious Victorians.

[He strolls over to Holmes and the Doctor as he talks, though, hands in his pockets. He's not bothered by joining the conversation. See him not being bothered?]

Hello, Detective. [That's for Holmes, arch and unimpressed.]

Exhibit B, I presume. [Charming smile. He is unaffected by the aloofness. He can rise above petty impoliteness.] A pleasure. Would you care to shake hands? [Or are curious Victorians not permitted tactility? There's some sliiiight mocking there. But all in good fun. He extends out a hand.]

[The petty impoliteness, even though he can guess the reasons for it, goes ignored by the Doctor as well. All the Master gets for his sarcastic remarks is a bit of an eyeroll.

Holmes reacts gracefully enough, though, so the Doctor refrains from adding an apologetic comment and watches Holmes extend a hand. Go on, Master. Be nice and shake it.]

B for Brown. Harry Brown. [He takes Holmes's hand without hesitation—see him behaving, Doctor?—and shakes. The grip is just a little too firm to be neutral.] Otherwise known as the Master.

[He'll see which name you choose to use, and how you use it.]

Holmes is expanding his vocabulary! \o/

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