(no subject)
The Master is lounging comfortably in an armchair in the Nexus, (appropriately enough) smoking one of the very finest Cubans a man can get his hands on. They are in, fact, not even from Cuba, but rather from the planet Mbere, at a date in the far future where the word 'Cuban' has become synonymous with a quality cigar, while the original meaning of the word is long forgotten. Though he's quite unaware of it, the man has been LOLed to within an inch of his dignity- and even that may soon be utterly destroyed- and he looks out at the Nexus with some impatience.
'Has anyone seen the Doctor? I've been waiting for the man for an age, the least he could do is be punctual.'
Of course, there's no particular reason the Doctor should be here, but the Master wants him here, and so here is where he should be. Besides, the man has a habit of showing up anywhere the Master is anyway, no reason he should make an exception now.
((OOC: The Master has been LOLed with this- ie, at the moment, he is, essentially, entirely Id. All those careful layers, the planning and inhibitions- all gone. Whoops!))
'Has anyone seen the Doctor? I've been waiting for the man for an age, the least he could do is be punctual.'
Of course, there's no particular reason the Doctor should be here, but the Master wants him here, and so here is where he should be. Besides, the man has a habit of showing up anywhere the Master is anyway, no reason he should make an exception now.
((OOC: The Master has been LOLed with this- ie, at the moment, he is, essentially, entirely Id. All those careful layers, the planning and inhibitions- all gone. Whoops!))