(no subject)
HAVE A MASTER, DRESSING ROOM! HE IS SITTING IN A SWIVEL CHAIR, TAPPING OUT- YOU GUESSED IT- ON THE ARM. HE LOOKS TERRIBLY, TERRIBLY PLEASED WITH HIMSELF. SIPPING FROM A GLASS OF BRANDY, SMIRKING. REALLY, HE'S SO EVIL IT'S CLICHE. AFTER A MOMENT, HE SPINS AROUND IN THE CHAIR IN A SUITABLY BOND-VILLAIN FASHION.
'Y HALLO THAR, DOKTAR.'