for oncoming_storms 82.2: Single Words: Book
He stopped short as he passed the bookshop. He would’ve kept walking, except a face in the window caught his eyes. A face on a poster in the window, multiple posters in fact.
Book signing, today only.
Harold Saxon.
Same face, same smile, same everything.
He leaned against the glass for a moment, studying the face. How did that happen? How did he not notice sooner there was a Harold Saxon trotting around this universe? How did the Master even end up here.
He went into the bookshop. Camera flashes filled the air and a voice boomed through the room, making some sort of quip and the sounds of laughter echoed in reply.
He moved towards the sound, but was stopped by a security guard.
“I’m sorry sir, no one except for authorized personnel past this point.”
“I’m here for the signing.”
The guard gave him a look and then nearly laughed, but stopped himself.
“What?”
“You’ll have to wait in the queue mate.”
“The queue, what queue?”
He looked around the bookshop, it was nearly empty, except for a door towards the back that people seemed to be filtering through.
“Outside, around the corner, there you are lad.”
He gave the guard a look, and then finally walked out the door. The things that needed to be done to ensure the safety of the universe.
*****
“I read it twice!”
“I read it three times, the part in Spain!”
“Or the part where he single-handedly stopped those Cybermen.”
“He’s so gallant,” the one woman said, her tone dreamy.
“And a bit tasty, too,” the other women added in a mischievous tone.
He sighed loudly. The two women didn’t seem to notice, giggling over some detail of Harold Saxon’s glorious existence.
Two hours in a queue. Two hours in a queue around the block. Two hours in a queue around the block surrounded by what had to be Harold Saxon’s personal fan club.
“Next,” the guard at the door announced.
He followed in behind a hoard of women. The Master really did draw a certain audience, didn’t he?
The security guard gave him a look. He couldn’t be concerned with the guard though, as he stood on tip toes. It was him. Sitting there, right down to the suit.
Finally it was his turn. He put the book down on the table. He wasn’t sure if he was more bothered by the Master attempting to take over an alternate Earth or the fact that he had to waste £34 on Kiss Me, Kill Me.
“Hello,” the Master smiled up at him, “who should I make this out to?”
“You can cut all that out right now.”
“Sorry? Cut all what out?”
“Oh, don’t play innocent with me. You’re not fooling anyone. So what’s your game then?”
“My game? I did play a bit of rugby in university. But I’m sure you all ready know that, having read my book.”
“What is it, prime minister, subjugate Earth, take over a parallel universe? Running out of inspiration and just replaying the last failed attempt again?”
“It would seem that you have quite the imagination.”
He took a step closer to the table, hands pressing down on it and leaning in towards the Master.
“Right, I have contacts here, plenty. Torchwood, UNIT.”
“I haven't a clue who you think I might be, but,” he looked away from the Doctor, signing the book and then handing it back to him, “I think you are terribly confused.”
He hadn’t noticed the security guards that had closed in on him while his focus was on the Master. He assumed ranting and raving at a highly guarded public figure probably wasn’t a smart idea.
“Come with us, sir.”
He would’ve struggled, but he didn’t want to give the Master the satisfaction.
“I’ve got my eye on you, Master.”
“Should we call the police?” he heard one of the guards ask the Master.
Could he have been wrong? Maybe there really was a Harold Saxon in another universe. Maybe he did just make a complete fool of himself. Maybe he just made a complete fool of himself and lost £34 pounds and didn’t even get a book out of it, as his copy sat on the floor now, having fallen during the shuffle.
He heard Harold Saxon’s voice. A pitch louder and cheerier than he had heard it since he found the bookshop earlier that day. Loud and cheery enough that he knew he was meant to hear.
“No, no. Let him go. He is just unwell. After all, I’m sure that what this man needs, right now, is a Doctor!”
His mouth dropped a little in shock and then he tried to push back towards the Master again.
“Oh you bast-”
His words were cut off as he was tossed out the front door of the bookshop. He could see the Master tilt his body to the right to look out at him. He offered a smug grin and then was back to signing for another fawning fan.
ooc: written by request for the demanding
savagestime
Book signing, today only.
Harold Saxon.
Same face, same smile, same everything.
He leaned against the glass for a moment, studying the face. How did that happen? How did he not notice sooner there was a Harold Saxon trotting around this universe? How did the Master even end up here.
He went into the bookshop. Camera flashes filled the air and a voice boomed through the room, making some sort of quip and the sounds of laughter echoed in reply.
He moved towards the sound, but was stopped by a security guard.
“I’m sorry sir, no one except for authorized personnel past this point.”
“I’m here for the signing.”
The guard gave him a look and then nearly laughed, but stopped himself.
“What?”
“You’ll have to wait in the queue mate.”
“The queue, what queue?”
He looked around the bookshop, it was nearly empty, except for a door towards the back that people seemed to be filtering through.
“Outside, around the corner, there you are lad.”
He gave the guard a look, and then finally walked out the door. The things that needed to be done to ensure the safety of the universe.
*****
“I read it twice!”
“I read it three times, the part in Spain!”
“Or the part where he single-handedly stopped those Cybermen.”
“He’s so gallant,” the one woman said, her tone dreamy.
“And a bit tasty, too,” the other women added in a mischievous tone.
He sighed loudly. The two women didn’t seem to notice, giggling over some detail of Harold Saxon’s glorious existence.
Two hours in a queue. Two hours in a queue around the block. Two hours in a queue around the block surrounded by what had to be Harold Saxon’s personal fan club.
“Next,” the guard at the door announced.
He followed in behind a hoard of women. The Master really did draw a certain audience, didn’t he?
The security guard gave him a look. He couldn’t be concerned with the guard though, as he stood on tip toes. It was him. Sitting there, right down to the suit.
Finally it was his turn. He put the book down on the table. He wasn’t sure if he was more bothered by the Master attempting to take over an alternate Earth or the fact that he had to waste £34 on Kiss Me, Kill Me.
“Hello,” the Master smiled up at him, “who should I make this out to?”
“You can cut all that out right now.”
“Sorry? Cut all what out?”
“Oh, don’t play innocent with me. You’re not fooling anyone. So what’s your game then?”
“My game? I did play a bit of rugby in university. But I’m sure you all ready know that, having read my book.”
“What is it, prime minister, subjugate Earth, take over a parallel universe? Running out of inspiration and just replaying the last failed attempt again?”
“It would seem that you have quite the imagination.”
He took a step closer to the table, hands pressing down on it and leaning in towards the Master.
“Right, I have contacts here, plenty. Torchwood, UNIT.”
“I haven't a clue who you think I might be, but,” he looked away from the Doctor, signing the book and then handing it back to him, “I think you are terribly confused.”
He hadn’t noticed the security guards that had closed in on him while his focus was on the Master. He assumed ranting and raving at a highly guarded public figure probably wasn’t a smart idea.
“Come with us, sir.”
He would’ve struggled, but he didn’t want to give the Master the satisfaction.
“I’ve got my eye on you, Master.”
“Should we call the police?” he heard one of the guards ask the Master.
Could he have been wrong? Maybe there really was a Harold Saxon in another universe. Maybe he did just make a complete fool of himself. Maybe he just made a complete fool of himself and lost £34 pounds and didn’t even get a book out of it, as his copy sat on the floor now, having fallen during the shuffle.
He heard Harold Saxon’s voice. A pitch louder and cheerier than he had heard it since he found the bookshop earlier that day. Loud and cheery enough that he knew he was meant to hear.
“No, no. Let him go. He is just unwell. After all, I’m sure that what this man needs, right now, is a Doctor!”
His mouth dropped a little in shock and then he tried to push back towards the Master again.
“Oh you bast-”
His words were cut off as he was tossed out the front door of the bookshop. He could see the Master tilt his body to the right to look out at him. He offered a smug grin and then was back to signing for another fawning fan.
ooc: written by request for the demanding
savagestime