(wastedlands) uh oh.
Mar. 18th, 2008 12:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ans99Characters: Abberline, Sam Tyler, Belgarath, Faye, Ruby, The Doctor, and The Master.
Rating: light R for macabre settings.
Date: Very shortly after Riki and Maleficent's posts.
Location: City-> Diagon Alley-> City/"morgue"
The Master followed the small group at a far distance, not wanting to be seen. He knew the Doctor would be there, knew the risks, but did not care. He had to see this firsthand.
He noted with amusement that Abberline's newest pet... was, in fact, an actual pet this time. At least by the looks of it.
The Master's stomach dropped slightly as they rounded the curve and he caught sight of the Doctor. He ducked behind what by all rights looked like a smiling mailbox and waited until the group entered the alley. Then he abandoned the mailbox (which had started giggling) and crept as close as he dared, slipping into an alley opposite and backing into the shadows. Just watching.
Abberline greeted Ruby silently, and stood aside to let her photograph the body. He was sketching out the scene - it was second nature, quick, and remarkably accurate, and it was back in his pocket soon enough.
"I know moving a body without forensics is unwise, but we have limited time if we're to believe that there are rogue vampires about the place," he said quietly. "We can wait it out until we can raise Mr. Morgan and Agent Ziva, or we can move him..."
He trailed off, hearing the wolf's warning in his head, and he looked over at where he was facing. He raised the torch and aimed it at the end of the alley, his other hand automatically going to the revolver at his side, though he didn't draw his weapon just yet. "Someone's watching us."
Ruby was, in fact, snapping pictures with the camera in her phone. It wasn't the best camera in the world, but it would do since they didn't have any better thus far. She smiled over to the wolf when she knelt to take some close up pictures, then looked up to Faye at her comments.
"It's possible. Though, if she did use magic, there's likely to be some sort of internal damage that killed him. A crushed heart, that sort of thing." There wasn't any signs that she could tell, but then again, she couldn't really look around properly without giving herself away more.
Her free hand automatically went to the knife sheath strapped to her leg as everyone's attention moved to the shadows. She could sense someone there as well, and if it was the killer, well... she wouldn't hesitate to strike.
Belgarath continues to growl, hackles rising. The limitations Wonderland is putting on him haven't bothered him lately as much as they would if he weren't currently swanning about as a wolf, but now that he could really use being capable of his usual power it's a little more aggravating. He makes an attempt at forcing and hurrying the slowed down gather of his will, but to no avail.
Still, he is currently a fucking great wolf. It does save time on things like 'unsheathing' or 'safety catches'.
He's too alert to be just what he seems to be. But then, the likelihood anyone is looking at the cranky wolf right now seems slim.
"It seems a little..." - Gross? Wrong? Sadistic? - "wrong to leave him here. It's not like he's a dead animal or something. He's a person." Faye understood the problems involved with moving a body, but they weren't exactly living in the real world, and while her opinions of right and wrong and justice and duty were skewed differently at times, she wasn't so cold as to miss the problems with leaving someone behind.
She was about to comment back to Ruby - at least there was another woman around - when Abberline spoke up and she finally caught the dog's growling. Hardly without her Glock, Faye gripped the handgun tight in her palm, shoulders squared, feet planted, wondering, momentarily, how ridiculous they all looked standing like this.
"Should we shoot first and ask questions later?" she asked, sarcastic, keeping her voice low.
The Doctor watched the shadows. He could barely see him. But he felt him. This was him. It was such a different feeling. He wanted to move towards him, but something inwardly wouldn't let him. Instead, he stood there and felt his pulses race.
The Inspector. He's got a gun.
He drew forward from the crowd, trying to keep them all in focus, all actions accounted for. A woman standing there. She's got a knife, she's reaching for it. Another woman now. Another handgun.
Say something.
He mumbled, kind of, "I'll take care of it. I'll handle it," and then raised his voice to an authoritative level, "I'll take care of it!" he nodded off to himself as a surrogate reply, and walked past them all towards the Master.
The Master leaned forward as the group talked in the alley, took pictures, and generally wasted time with their would-be detective work. His full attention was focused on straining to see if there was, in fact, a body. He thought maybe he could see a foot... it was difficult with so many morons milling about.
It took him a moment to realize the conversation had died down, and that five pale faces (and one furry one) were turned his way. He blinked, not entirely surprised, and was beginning to regret his curiosity when the Doctor broke free of the rest of them.
The Master would have panicked given enough time, but there was none. Suddenly, no time. He turned and broke into a run, hoping this alley was not a dead end.
The Doctor met his eyes, and in that split second realized what the Master was about to do... run.
He made no hesitation, and started after him.
The alley was a dead end; this place was not about giving the Master any breaks, apparently, and he scrabbled about a bit at the rather solid wall for a few seconds, feeling foolish, before turning and facing the one thing he'd least wanted to right now.
This was all too familiar.
...chasing? Yes.
Belgarath lopes after the Doctor and theShot Master, demonstrating easily the fact that being temporarily trapped in the form of a wolf does not come without its perks.
Simply put: motherfuck, he's fast. And oh, that is a dead end, isn't it. At least for now he's going to defer to the people who actually know what the hell is going on, but for those not privy to the inner workings of the old wolf...well, a bloody great growling wolf tagging along this cornering probably isn't helping.
The alley was a dead end
-- something breezed near him. The wolf -- and suddenly he came to a halting skid feet away from the Master. Unsure of what to say he tottered back and forth between action and speech.
"Master... just don't, just don't, just -- " his voice was tensed, when he really wanted to soothe him. He raised his hands up harmlessly in front of him in surrender for something that hadn't even begun.
And he himself panicking tried to calm him.
"Please."
The Master took a step back, his own hands raised defensively, as that great big bloody-- THING that he was increasingly certain was not just a wolf-- bounded from behind the Doctor and headed straight for him.
He looked back and forth between the Doctor and the wolf, not sure what the game was anymore, and not liking it one bit.
He squeezed his eyes shut briefly at the Doctor's babbling. "Don't."
The wolf. The wolf. He doesn't like the wolf.
"No, no, no. That's not mine. Just, just...calm down. Okay? Okay," he stepped forward very carefully, lowering his hands as he still wasn't in distance to touch him.
"I've been looking for you. Everywhere. You've got no idea what I've --" he stopped and swallowed hard.
Damned children, Belgarath grouses to Abberline across the distance, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the Master. No, not just a wolf, definitely not. Right now he's mostly developing the idea that everyone here is completely and utterly insane.
If nothing else, it's a terribly familiar feeling.
Are they--gods, you can't answer me anyway. We'll discuss this later.
He modulates his growls and refrains from baring his teeth.
The assurance that the Doctor had no control over the mutt was not doing much to ease the Master's growing panic. He took turns darting his eyes between the Doctor, the wolf, and now the alley itself. There had to be something. A door, something.
And there was. Behind the wolf. Brilliantbrilliantbrilliantbrilliant
Meanwhile the Doctor was having some sort of a breakdown. Typical. And was the wolf...
The Master blinked again, trying to clear his head. Was he really surprised that the wolf appeared to be thinking atAbberline someone?
Abberline. Had to be.
He fixed his attention back on the Doctor. "Save it. This thing is telepathic."
The Doctor eyed the door with him, and tried quickly to collect himself. He only had so much time. Maybe he'd never find him again. Maybe he'd find him dead, killed by an irate refugee. Maybe this was his last chance. right. now.
Save it. This thing is telepathic.
He nodded very slightly in understanding and rapidly tried to clear his head of thought. He had been aware that there was something more to the wolf, but needed only to hear it from the Master to be grounded in its reality.
The Doctor decided to keep still, assuming a relaxed posture. He knew he wouldn't like if he approached closer. Instead he bent over his knees and tried to mentally slow his breathing down to an acceptable rate; all the while keeping his eyes on the Master.
Staring up at him, pleading.
It's for Abberline's comfort that Belgarath makes a point of not reading minds (for now, at least), so there's no impression of listening to accompany the chuckle of an old man that is audible, now, to the Time Lords.
Not entirely foolish then, boys. It'd be kind to say that seven thousand of years of wrangling kings like children leaves a man with a certain kind of (annoying) attitude and an ego the size of the moon.
It'd be more honest to say Belgarath's been like that since long before he took the Alorns and their fellows in hand. I, personally, don't give a damn about whatever's going on here. Hit each other until you feel better for all I care; might do you some good.
Apparently, the condescending old bastard is just planning to supervise, for whatever reason. Perhaps he thinks they need an adult, or perhaps the Doctor might need to show him on the doll--sorry, sorry, typist apologizes. He chuffs quietly and settles on his haunches some feet away from them, ostensibly giving the Time Lords some privacy. If he rolls his eyes, that is between him and...anyone watching him.
(He's more interested in this than the dead body. He's had enough of dead bodies for a time.)
If the wolf wanted a show, the Master wasn't about to give him the kind he wanted.
"Yet here you are," he chose to address it aloud. First the Network, and now... this! Privacy was rapidly becoming impossible to obtain in this place.
"Abberline's spy. Abberline's pet." Whether the words were true or not didn't particularly matter. "Tell me, how many doggie biscuits does he have to feed you to get you to stand hanging around him?" The Master narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. "Or perhaps all that is something you enjoy?"
The Doctor stood up straight, glancing carefully at the wolf and running a hand over his face. "Stop," he looked back at the Master, "it doesn't matter. We can go some place else."
He felt the crowd dispersing behind him, and watched the Master still; sincerely begging him to listen.
We? That was awfully presumptuous. The Master continued to ignore the Doctor, still smirking at the wolf.
"Does he give you belly rubs for a job well done? Maybe he even lets you on the settee every once in a while, if you've been an extra good dog?" The Master grinned, showing teeth.
The Doctor took a deep breath, slowly relaxing; relieved that the Master seemed to be staying fairly well put (the brick wall helped). He paused for a moment allowing himself a moment to choose his next words more carefully.
"...Stop!"
He ran a hand over his face again, frustrated with his apparent inability to convey how he felt.
"Look. Just stop. Stop," he moved forward slightly towards him, "this is our chance, this is our second chance. Here. Right now. Please," his voice turned quiet as he watched the Master's eyes, hesitating, upset with himself for what he was about to admit aloud; sickened from the feeling of urgency as time pressed it out of him, "I'd stay here... with you."
The Master opened his mouth and closed it, his plan to taunt the wolf long forgotten after that kind of speech. He was sure he must look absolutely horrified-- he was. This was more horrifying than anything he could have imagined. This place was bad enough, but to be monitored--kept-- by him--
"You've lost it," he muttered, glancing toward the door again despite himself. The wolf had moved just enough to make it accessible. Maybe. "You've got to be joking."
The Doctor noticed his eyes wander off towards the door, but made no move to take his focus off of him, "I'm not joking." His voice was serious, honest, but he looked terrified. They both must have.
If I made this sound advantageous to him, maybe...
"I know there's people here," he paused a beat and nodded slowly, thinking, "who would hurt you. I wouldn't let that happen. I'd never let that happen."
He killed himself to escape this.
He continued, quickly now.
"I don't have my TARDIS here. I've got nothing. It doesn't have to be anything like you imagined..."
The Master laughed at him, then. He couldn't help it. Didn't care about wolves anymore, didn't care who might hear him, how it looked. Didn't care.
"Right," he finally choked out, getting a slightly better grip on himself, "You are so... damned... good at averting disaster. I'd forgotten." Every now and then he took a step back in the direction of the door, staggering drunkenly. "You honestly think that I'd ever agree to be your glorified pet just to gain your dubious protection?"
He stared at the Doctor, suddenly serious. "You're right, though. You're absolutely correct. You have nothing." A small smile quirked at the edge of his mouth, and he dashed to the door. Miracle of miracles, it was unlocked.
The Doctor watched the Master laugh at him. He might have looked surprised, but he wasn't really. Surprised or not though, it wasn't something one wanted to hear after such a heart felt admittance.
He stepped closer to him as he moved away, "You know that's not how I meant it! Stop acting like it is!" he breathed harder, trying to get his voice under control as the Master stared him down.
You're right, though. You're absolutely correct. You have nothing.
He said nothing. Did nothing as he pulled the side door open. Everything went from his mind, and he simply just stood there.
Belgarath contemplates the Doctor for a bit, and then rises -- shakes himself off a bit -- and goes over to nudge him lightly. There's not really a lot one can say, so it's more of a gentle 'good lord you children are stroppy, here, relax' kind of thing.
This not actually being his responsibility, he just takes note of the door the Master left through and makes his way back to Abberline.
He didn't look back to see if the Doctor (or that bloody wolf) was following, knowing that would only slow him down even more. These shoes were not made for running, and the Master didn't want to even entertain the notion of what would happen if he was caught.
He just yanked the door open and ran, ignoring the eyes of the Leaky Cauldron staff idling about in the back kitchen area. He skidded on a wet patch and nearly went down, but caught himself and kept running.
Nothing, nothing. He had nothing, the Doctor had seen to that. It was time to return the favor.
The wolf's pointed gesture startled the Doctor from his motionless apathy, and he took off running after the Master -- just barely catching the door before it clicked shut.
Already having lost sight of him in that first crucial moment, he turned his attention to the kitchen staff and followed their staring eyes towards their distraction; aggressively pushing past anyone that happened to be in his way.
Despite initial timidness, his desire to find him and resulting concentration in doing so put forth a valiant effort as he ran swiftly through the front doors of the pub.
Then there on the night street, he was gone.
And he had nothing.
http://community.livejournal.com/nonevidence/71523.html?thread=2836067#t2836067
Rating: light R for macabre settings.
Date: Very shortly after Riki and Maleficent's posts.
Location: City-> Diagon Alley-> City/"morgue"
The Master followed the small group at a far distance, not wanting to be seen. He knew the Doctor would be there, knew the risks, but did not care. He had to see this firsthand.
He noted with amusement that Abberline's newest pet... was, in fact, an actual pet this time. At least by the looks of it.
The Master's stomach dropped slightly as they rounded the curve and he caught sight of the Doctor. He ducked behind what by all rights looked like a smiling mailbox and waited until the group entered the alley. Then he abandoned the mailbox (which had started giggling) and crept as close as he dared, slipping into an alley opposite and backing into the shadows. Just watching.
Abberline greeted Ruby silently, and stood aside to let her photograph the body. He was sketching out the scene - it was second nature, quick, and remarkably accurate, and it was back in his pocket soon enough.
"I know moving a body without forensics is unwise, but we have limited time if we're to believe that there are rogue vampires about the place," he said quietly. "We can wait it out until we can raise Mr. Morgan and Agent Ziva, or we can move him..."
He trailed off, hearing the wolf's warning in his head, and he looked over at where he was facing. He raised the torch and aimed it at the end of the alley, his other hand automatically going to the revolver at his side, though he didn't draw his weapon just yet. "Someone's watching us."
Ruby was, in fact, snapping pictures with the camera in her phone. It wasn't the best camera in the world, but it would do since they didn't have any better thus far. She smiled over to the wolf when she knelt to take some close up pictures, then looked up to Faye at her comments.
"It's possible. Though, if she did use magic, there's likely to be some sort of internal damage that killed him. A crushed heart, that sort of thing." There wasn't any signs that she could tell, but then again, she couldn't really look around properly without giving herself away more.
Her free hand automatically went to the knife sheath strapped to her leg as everyone's attention moved to the shadows. She could sense someone there as well, and if it was the killer, well... she wouldn't hesitate to strike.
Belgarath continues to growl, hackles rising. The limitations Wonderland is putting on him haven't bothered him lately as much as they would if he weren't currently swanning about as a wolf, but now that he could really use being capable of his usual power it's a little more aggravating. He makes an attempt at forcing and hurrying the slowed down gather of his will, but to no avail.
Still, he is currently a fucking great wolf. It does save time on things like 'unsheathing' or 'safety catches'.
He's too alert to be just what he seems to be. But then, the likelihood anyone is looking at the cranky wolf right now seems slim.
"It seems a little..." - Gross? Wrong? Sadistic? - "wrong to leave him here. It's not like he's a dead animal or something. He's a person." Faye understood the problems involved with moving a body, but they weren't exactly living in the real world, and while her opinions of right and wrong and justice and duty were skewed differently at times, she wasn't so cold as to miss the problems with leaving someone behind.
She was about to comment back to Ruby - at least there was another woman around - when Abberline spoke up and she finally caught the dog's growling. Hardly without her Glock, Faye gripped the handgun tight in her palm, shoulders squared, feet planted, wondering, momentarily, how ridiculous they all looked standing like this.
"Should we shoot first and ask questions later?" she asked, sarcastic, keeping her voice low.
The Doctor watched the shadows. He could barely see him. But he felt him. This was him. It was such a different feeling. He wanted to move towards him, but something inwardly wouldn't let him. Instead, he stood there and felt his pulses race.
The Inspector. He's got a gun.
He drew forward from the crowd, trying to keep them all in focus, all actions accounted for. A woman standing there. She's got a knife, she's reaching for it. Another woman now. Another handgun.
Say something.
He mumbled, kind of, "I'll take care of it. I'll handle it," and then raised his voice to an authoritative level, "I'll take care of it!" he nodded off to himself as a surrogate reply, and walked past them all towards the Master.
The Master leaned forward as the group talked in the alley, took pictures, and generally wasted time with their would-be detective work. His full attention was focused on straining to see if there was, in fact, a body. He thought maybe he could see a foot... it was difficult with so many morons milling about.
It took him a moment to realize the conversation had died down, and that five pale faces (and one furry one) were turned his way. He blinked, not entirely surprised, and was beginning to regret his curiosity when the Doctor broke free of the rest of them.
The Master would have panicked given enough time, but there was none. Suddenly, no time. He turned and broke into a run, hoping this alley was not a dead end.
The Doctor met his eyes, and in that split second realized what the Master was about to do... run.
He made no hesitation, and started after him.
The alley was a dead end; this place was not about giving the Master any breaks, apparently, and he scrabbled about a bit at the rather solid wall for a few seconds, feeling foolish, before turning and facing the one thing he'd least wanted to right now.
This was all too familiar.
...chasing? Yes.
Belgarath lopes after the Doctor and the
Simply put: motherfuck, he's fast. And oh, that is a dead end, isn't it. At least for now he's going to defer to the people who actually know what the hell is going on, but for those not privy to the inner workings of the old wolf...well, a bloody great growling wolf tagging along this cornering probably isn't helping.
The alley was a dead end
-- something breezed near him. The wolf -- and suddenly he came to a halting skid feet away from the Master. Unsure of what to say he tottered back and forth between action and speech.
"Master... just don't, just don't, just -- " his voice was tensed, when he really wanted to soothe him. He raised his hands up harmlessly in front of him in surrender for something that hadn't even begun.
And he himself panicking tried to calm him.
"Please."
The Master took a step back, his own hands raised defensively, as that great big bloody-- THING that he was increasingly certain was not just a wolf-- bounded from behind the Doctor and headed straight for him.
He looked back and forth between the Doctor and the wolf, not sure what the game was anymore, and not liking it one bit.
He squeezed his eyes shut briefly at the Doctor's babbling. "Don't."
The wolf. The wolf. He doesn't like the wolf.
"No, no, no. That's not mine. Just, just...calm down. Okay? Okay," he stepped forward very carefully, lowering his hands as he still wasn't in distance to touch him.
"I've been looking for you. Everywhere. You've got no idea what I've --" he stopped and swallowed hard.
Damned children, Belgarath grouses to Abberline across the distance, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the Master. No, not just a wolf, definitely not. Right now he's mostly developing the idea that everyone here is completely and utterly insane.
If nothing else, it's a terribly familiar feeling.
Are they--gods, you can't answer me anyway. We'll discuss this later.
He modulates his growls and refrains from baring his teeth.
The assurance that the Doctor had no control over the mutt was not doing much to ease the Master's growing panic. He took turns darting his eyes between the Doctor, the wolf, and now the alley itself. There had to be something. A door, something.
And there was. Behind the wolf. Brilliantbrilliantbrilliantbrilliant
Meanwhile the Doctor was having some sort of a breakdown. Typical. And was the wolf...
The Master blinked again, trying to clear his head. Was he really surprised that the wolf appeared to be thinking at
Abberline. Had to be.
He fixed his attention back on the Doctor. "Save it. This thing is telepathic."
The Doctor eyed the door with him, and tried quickly to collect himself. He only had so much time. Maybe he'd never find him again. Maybe he'd find him dead, killed by an irate refugee. Maybe this was his last chance. right. now.
Save it. This thing is telepathic.
He nodded very slightly in understanding and rapidly tried to clear his head of thought. He had been aware that there was something more to the wolf, but needed only to hear it from the Master to be grounded in its reality.
The Doctor decided to keep still, assuming a relaxed posture. He knew he wouldn't like if he approached closer. Instead he bent over his knees and tried to mentally slow his breathing down to an acceptable rate; all the while keeping his eyes on the Master.
Staring up at him, pleading.
It's for Abberline's comfort that Belgarath makes a point of not reading minds (for now, at least), so there's no impression of listening to accompany the chuckle of an old man that is audible, now, to the Time Lords.
Not entirely foolish then, boys. It'd be kind to say that seven thousand of years of wrangling kings like children leaves a man with a certain kind of (annoying) attitude and an ego the size of the moon.
It'd be more honest to say Belgarath's been like that since long before he took the Alorns and their fellows in hand. I, personally, don't give a damn about whatever's going on here. Hit each other until you feel better for all I care; might do you some good.
Apparently, the condescending old bastard is just planning to supervise, for whatever reason. Perhaps he thinks they need an adult, or perhaps the Doctor might need to show him on the doll--sorry, sorry, typist apologizes. He chuffs quietly and settles on his haunches some feet away from them, ostensibly giving the Time Lords some privacy. If he rolls his eyes, that is between him and...anyone watching him.
(He's more interested in this than the dead body. He's had enough of dead bodies for a time.)
If the wolf wanted a show, the Master wasn't about to give him the kind he wanted.
"Yet here you are," he chose to address it aloud. First the Network, and now... this! Privacy was rapidly becoming impossible to obtain in this place.
"Abberline's spy. Abberline's pet." Whether the words were true or not didn't particularly matter. "Tell me, how many doggie biscuits does he have to feed you to get you to stand hanging around him?" The Master narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. "Or perhaps all that is something you enjoy?"
The Doctor stood up straight, glancing carefully at the wolf and running a hand over his face. "Stop," he looked back at the Master, "it doesn't matter. We can go some place else."
He felt the crowd dispersing behind him, and watched the Master still; sincerely begging him to listen.
We? That was awfully presumptuous. The Master continued to ignore the Doctor, still smirking at the wolf.
"Does he give you belly rubs for a job well done? Maybe he even lets you on the settee every once in a while, if you've been an extra good dog?" The Master grinned, showing teeth.
The Doctor took a deep breath, slowly relaxing; relieved that the Master seemed to be staying fairly well put (the brick wall helped). He paused for a moment allowing himself a moment to choose his next words more carefully.
"...Stop!"
He ran a hand over his face again, frustrated with his apparent inability to convey how he felt.
"Look. Just stop. Stop," he moved forward slightly towards him, "this is our chance, this is our second chance. Here. Right now. Please," his voice turned quiet as he watched the Master's eyes, hesitating, upset with himself for what he was about to admit aloud; sickened from the feeling of urgency as time pressed it out of him, "I'd stay here... with you."
The Master opened his mouth and closed it, his plan to taunt the wolf long forgotten after that kind of speech. He was sure he must look absolutely horrified-- he was. This was more horrifying than anything he could have imagined. This place was bad enough, but to be monitored--kept-- by him--
"You've lost it," he muttered, glancing toward the door again despite himself. The wolf had moved just enough to make it accessible. Maybe. "You've got to be joking."
The Doctor noticed his eyes wander off towards the door, but made no move to take his focus off of him, "I'm not joking." His voice was serious, honest, but he looked terrified. They both must have.
If I made this sound advantageous to him, maybe...
"I know there's people here," he paused a beat and nodded slowly, thinking, "who would hurt you. I wouldn't let that happen. I'd never let that happen."
He killed himself to escape this.
He continued, quickly now.
"I don't have my TARDIS here. I've got nothing. It doesn't have to be anything like you imagined..."
The Master laughed at him, then. He couldn't help it. Didn't care about wolves anymore, didn't care who might hear him, how it looked. Didn't care.
"Right," he finally choked out, getting a slightly better grip on himself, "You are so... damned... good at averting disaster. I'd forgotten." Every now and then he took a step back in the direction of the door, staggering drunkenly. "You honestly think that I'd ever agree to be your glorified pet just to gain your dubious protection?"
He stared at the Doctor, suddenly serious. "You're right, though. You're absolutely correct. You have nothing." A small smile quirked at the edge of his mouth, and he dashed to the door. Miracle of miracles, it was unlocked.
The Doctor watched the Master laugh at him. He might have looked surprised, but he wasn't really. Surprised or not though, it wasn't something one wanted to hear after such a heart felt admittance.
He stepped closer to him as he moved away, "You know that's not how I meant it! Stop acting like it is!" he breathed harder, trying to get his voice under control as the Master stared him down.
You're right, though. You're absolutely correct. You have nothing.
He said nothing. Did nothing as he pulled the side door open. Everything went from his mind, and he simply just stood there.
Belgarath contemplates the Doctor for a bit, and then rises -- shakes himself off a bit -- and goes over to nudge him lightly. There's not really a lot one can say, so it's more of a gentle 'good lord you children are stroppy, here, relax' kind of thing.
This not actually being his responsibility, he just takes note of the door the Master left through and makes his way back to Abberline.
He didn't look back to see if the Doctor (or that bloody wolf) was following, knowing that would only slow him down even more. These shoes were not made for running, and the Master didn't want to even entertain the notion of what would happen if he was caught.
He just yanked the door open and ran, ignoring the eyes of the Leaky Cauldron staff idling about in the back kitchen area. He skidded on a wet patch and nearly went down, but caught himself and kept running.
Nothing, nothing. He had nothing, the Doctor had seen to that. It was time to return the favor.
The wolf's pointed gesture startled the Doctor from his motionless apathy, and he took off running after the Master -- just barely catching the door before it clicked shut.
Already having lost sight of him in that first crucial moment, he turned his attention to the kitchen staff and followed their staring eyes towards their distraction; aggressively pushing past anyone that happened to be in his way.
Despite initial timidness, his desire to find him and resulting concentration in doing so put forth a valiant effort as he ran swiftly through the front doors of the pub.
Then there on the night street, he was gone.
And he had nothing.
http://community.livejournal.com/nonevidence/71523.html?thread=2836067#t2836067
