Homeless

[dreamtofbeing]

It's my birthday! Thank you for letting me out on my birthday. You should let me out more, not just on my birthday. I like getting out and chatting with people. You know that, better than anyone, really.

So, February 29! It only comes around every four years. Didn't really celebrate, last time it did. And before that, it wasn't my birthday yet, so . . . anyone else out there whose birthday it is? How are you celebrating? Why did you pick February 29? Or did you not pick it yourself? I suppose there have to be at least a handful of people out there who are just statistically unlucky.

I think I want cake. And a candle. 44 candles! Or--do you get a candle for every year, or for every birthday? That'd be 12 candles, then. Or actually, it'd be two. That's a bit disappointing.

Mun, why did I pick February 29 as my birthday again?

Comments

[iwasherefirst]

You always were a bit dodgey 'bout your age.

[dreamtofbeing]

Time's relative, right? Age must be, too, then. I'm not dodgy, I'm Einsteinian.

[Have a big smile.] Rose. It's so nice to see you.

[iwasherefirst]

Yeah? Have to remember that one next time I'm describin' you.

[She smiles just as big in return.] It's brilliant to see you. Doin' well?

[dreamtofbeing]

Yeah. Yeah, I am. [This is actually not a lie. Things have changed a lot in his life--evident in his choice of outfit, which consists of jeans and a sweater rather than a suit and coat--but he's not lying when he says he's doing well. Doesn't mean he wants to talk about it.]

And you? You still with-- wait. [He interrupts himself and frowns.] When are you?

[iwasherefirst]

[She nods, glad to hear it. Really glad to hear it. The outfit choice is interesting but it's kind of nice as well. She won't prod. Not unless he makes more of an offer. She doesn't really feel she's got a right.]

Yeah. I am. I mean--[She stops because a lot has happened since she last saw him.] Beach. Brand new meta-crisis Doctor...sorta. I'm in this City. Can't leave but he's there too. [Well technically there are 3 different versions of him there, but as those 3 seem to pick up on which 'he' she's talking about regardless of which 'he' it actually is, she assumes he'll know that she's talking about the one he got his looks from.]

[dreamtofbeing]

Right. [Nodding.] A city, huh? How did the two of you end up there, then?

[He's assuming the 'he' that you're talking about is his metacrisis.]

[iwasherefirst]

He showed up before me. I just sorta...followed him.

[Same faces, timelines and such are fun. She's assuming he's the metacrisis when the he she's talking about is the tenth Doctor.]

[dreamtofbeing]

[He's not the metacrisis. He's not a Time Lord, either, though. It's a long story.]

On purpose?

[iwasherefirst]

Depends on how you look at it. I first showed up when I was lookin' for him before the Dalek bit and the stolen planets. Definitely on purpose, just wasn't where I expected him to be. Popped out for a couple of hours later to catch up back to the beach.

My mun says it was a canon update. Whatever that means.

[dreamtofbeing]

When you were looking for-- [Have a confused headtilt.] You were looking for--what? Who are we talking about?

[iwasherefirst]

The Doctor. Time-Lord Doctor. [She's just as confused at this point.] Tenth one. Looks like you. Brown suit.

[dreamtofbeing]

Time Lord--oh. Him. He's he, is he? Right. [Okay. Yeah. He can process that. His eyebrows draw together in a small frown.]

What about--the other one? You know. Blue suit, one heart. Is he there with you and him? The--you know, him. The Doctor. Time Lord. That him. [Man, this is getting confusing.]

[iwasherefirst]

Yeah. He's him. [She's fairly used to the lack of necessary pronouns when talking about all the time lords in the City.]

No, he's not here. He could always show up though. City works that way. Both my Doctors are here plus the one after. Far as I know, he's with my mum and dad. The City...when they put you back, they put you right back in the same time stream, at the same moment they took you so...he's standing on a beach waiting for me.

[dreamtofbeing]

Oh. Right. [That sounds like a time loop, one of the potentially universe-damaging kind. If he were still a Time Lord, he'd be all over finding out who's behind it. But he's not. So he's forcing himself to disengage. Which is most easily done with a change of subject.]

Plus the one after, huh? Doctor, I mean. [A slight frown; he's totally not incredibly curious.] What's he like?

[iwasherefirst]

[Definitely a time loop of some sort. The Doctor is doing a good deal of investigating into the whole thing.

She smiles at him and nods.]

He's...young. Lookin' anyhow. Wears a bow tie, tweed jacket. M'pretty sure I make him uncomfortable. He's not as good at the tackle hugs as mine are. He's still...the Doctor though. Brilliant. Amazin'. Y'know...

[sandwormie]

...I don't really get birthdays. People really keep track of these things? I mean, days and years are different on different planets.

[dreamtofbeing]

Days and years are different in different countries. Don't have to go planetwide to get that distinction. Still, it's a tradition, isn't it? Part of living a linear time line. And it's kind of nice. Who'd turn down free cake?

[sandwormie]

Not one back home! Or most places in the Empire, really. There are some holidays, but they're set by Imperial Center's year.

I've read about countries... Gotta be weird. When they're single islands or something I guess it makes sense, but... There's all these land masses cut up into hundreds of little bits. It just looks messy.

[dreamtofbeing]

The Empire, huh? [Have an eyebrow.] All hail colonialism, cleaning up the mess made by cultural diversity. How old are you?

[sandwormie]

Yeah, the Empire. First Galactic. It wasn't that different under the Republic, but I guess there's always been things about losing your planet's identity and just being known for your sector. Arkanis, for me.

Thirty-nine seasons, so about thirteen. By Imperial Center years. [Though he's small for his age.]

[greatest_monster]

Because you thought you were being clever. [He flips something at the Doctor—a bright blue envelope, with "Doctor" written in neat black script on the back. He got you a card.]

How old are we right now? [Meta spaces play hell with his sense of his own timeline.]

[dreamtofbeing]

[You got him a card. He catches it with a smile--that's so sweet.]

I don't know about you. I'm 44. [It's 2016--he moved back to Cardiff in early 2013, and gave up his single apartment only a couple of months ago.]

Do I open it now? [He's inspecting the envelope. It's blue. He likes blue. He bends it back and forth a little and smiles at you. He wants to open it. Can he?]

I need to get my proper icons over to this account

[greatest_monster]

Of course you open it now. [He crosses his arms, twitchy, just so avoiding sneering at you. If you're 44, than they've just moved in together recently. He's still working on mixed feelings about the new domesticity.] And then you toss it out in a week. Useless human custom.

[dreamtofbeing]

I toss it out in a week? No, I won't. [Have a surprised frown.] I keep birthday cards; don't you?

[He briefly looks down to tear off the corner of the envelope and slide his finger in; then looks back up as he opens it, still frowning. It wouldn't be very nice to toss out birthday cards, would it? People spend money on those.]

I hope I got the age you gave me right. Tell me if I haven't!

[greatest_monster]

No. What am I going to use them for? Reminding myself that I used to be younger? [That does come out with a sneer. He's living with you. He's living with an idiot who saves £3 pieces of cardboard for sentimental reasons.]

[The card's a cheap kid's card, with the Incredible Hulk on the front and the words "HULK HEAR YOU'RE 8!" Inside, it says "HULK GREEN WITH ENVY. Happy Birthday, Superhero!"]

["Superhero!" has been crossed out, and "Welsh Civil Servant!" written under it.]

["Only Wales would hire 8-year-olds," the Master has added below that.]

Nope, it's all good. The Doctor's eight. :|b

[dreamtofbeing]

Reminding yourself that you've got friends who care about you enough to send you birthday cards. [Dry. You're so sadly predictable.]

[He finishes tearing open the envelope and pulls the card out. As he looks at it, his dry expression changes into a smile. He opens it to read it and gives a small laugh; then looks up, still smiling and looking genuinely pleased, as well as amused.]

Who's the Hulk here? You?

[greatest_monster]

Me? [The Master had never considered the card implying that.] No. No one's the Hulk. [His tone is flat and definitive. No one here is a self-loathing scientist who turns into a green giant with a bad haircut and purple shorts on his bad days. Quit being silly.]

[He eyes you a moment, and then uncrosses his arms with an effort.]

Happy birthday. [He is Being Civil.]

[dreamtofbeing]

[No one's the Hulk. Alright. He nods, still smiling, and inspects the card again before he looks back up to watch you make an effort to be civil. He doesn't stop smiling, but the expression grows softer, more thoughtful.]

Thank you.

[He lives with you. He shares a flat with you; they went curtain-shopping together. Or, well, you went curtain-shopping and he tagged along because he likes looking at all the different buttons on the button rack in the fabric store. Still. He could never have predicted this. Would have laughed if anyone had.]

[He's going to move in for a hug. Is that okay? Can they do a hug? You can count it as a thank-you-for-the-birthday-card hug, which it actually is, at least partly.]

[greatest_monster]

[Lets you hug him, and attempts to hug back. It comes off as very business-like, stiff-spined, his chin up instead of resting on your shoulder. Hugging. Okay. He's hugging.]

[dreamtofbeing]

[Oh, Master. You're usually better at this. When you can be sure that it's not sincere. He'll give you a squeeze and then release you fairly quickly, still smiling.]

Do we have any plans for today?

[greatest_monster]

[Oh. You let go. He was planning on having time to be standoffish and then to give in and relax. Reluctantly, of course.]

We? [Eyebrows at you. If he'd made plans with you, he'd think you'd know.] I don't know. Have we? [He's made plans. But he's going to be arch for a moment.]

[dreamtofbeing]

[Yes, he let go. It was just a thank-you hug. Don't worry, he's sure they'll have more chances to hug as the day progresses.]

I don't; I've kept the day free in case we do. But I wouldn't mind spending the day kicking back and relaxing, either. [Have a broad smile. It's up to you.]

[the_badwolf]

Doctor! Your birthday?? You're serious?

[She can't help chuckling a bit.]

If you'd tell me that sort of thing sooner.. I'd have gotten you a present and a cake!

...We should go get one now! What flavor d'you like?

[Just a little bit excited.]

[dreamtofbeing]

Hey! Hello. I did tell you! Just now. Not back then, but that's because this is sort of a new development. 'sides, I don't think I know your birthday. Do I know your birthday? We were never the birthday sort of-- [--couple, except that's awkward, he's not going to say that.] --friends.

[Ahem. Yes. Erk. Have an awkward smile.] Flavor! I like--what kind of flavors are there? Do they have mocha? I love mocha, mocha is good.

[the_badwolf]

You're sure I didn't tell you after that whole bit with my dad and the reapers?

[Oh, right. In all that chaos, she must have forgotten. Oh well! Shoulder shrug.] Well, don't worry about that, it doesn't matter cuz it's your birthday right now, and I want to get you a present! Even if it ends up being a bit late, I promise I'll get you one!

[Warm smile for her beloved Doctor~] Mocha, hm? Can't really say I'm surprised. I think you might like Tiramisu cake. It's really good, and mocha-...y. ...ish. Whatever, it's good.

[captjacksparrow]

My munny-mun-mun has informed me that is it tradition in the celebratory circumstances at the annual of a one's birth to bring presents. And it occurs to me that a gentleman ex-alien of your caliber deserves nothing but the best.

[ He spreads his arms, with a hip swagger. ] Happy Birthday!

[ Because drunken pirates make the best gifts. ]

[dreamtofbeing]

[:D It's Jack! Hi Jack.]

Thank you!

[Hug! He is all for hugs, which means he will hug you, since you spread your arms and everything. Then he'll pull back a little and look at you expectantly, still smiling.]

So what's the present?

[captjacksparrow]

[ Oh! Hug. Erm. Hugs. Are unexpected. Are you picking his pockets? No, of course you're not; you're you. Still: he squirms a bit. Leeeeet go. Let go. He's not drunk enough for this yet. He gives you a tentative smile when you pull back—

—that drops to an exaggerated hurt pout at the question. ] Erm. Me.

[ Ta-da! Charming grin. So charming. Yes? No? You are amazed and flattered, he's sure. ]

[dreamtofbeing]

[Whoops, hurt pout. What did he--oh.]

Right! You. [Stepping back and looking you up and down, returning your smile.] Excellent. Birthday company's a good present. How's it going?

[You're kind of drunk. You usually are, but this is a little more than usually. Is there a reason for that, or is it just because you had enough rum at hand to get this drunk?]