θ 9

[bit_impossible]

[in some parts of the world and the universe, it is July 25th. for a Time Lord, it is always July 25th somewhere at some time (as well as many other days if we really wish to get complicated and pedantic), and today is no exception. now, the Doctor isn't always on-time; in fact, he often misses things nine times out of ten, so when he actually

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[promisedsomeone]

[Nearby, Asch is staring down some kind of neon mixed drink with suspicion.]

What is this supposed to be?

[Oh, hey, it's a not!prince. This is kind of awkward and he's not sure why. He is also a touch forceful with his tone, but it can't be helped. Asch is eternally grumpy after all.] ... Hey.

[promisedsomeone]

Who would drink something that looks like- [And then she takes the drink. He watches her with a mixture of surprise and disgust.] -... poison.

You don't even know where that came from.

[promisedsomeone]

[Asch's eyes narrow. If there's a tinge of pink to his cheeks, it's completely imaginary. Or it's the... lighting. Yes.]

I'm not drinking that.

[promisedsomeone]

[... Way to make him sound like some kind of nun. A nun or a coward. He doesn't like those insinuations.] That's not what I meant.

[He eyes the drink again. It smells kind of like an apple gel mixed with zinfandel. Not conventional, but not bad either. He still doesn't like to sit around and drink, though. He's not the kind of guy to cut loose at celebrations.

But she's looking at him, and pushing him, and he's getting annoyed now. Just to prove a point-- he snatches the glass from her hand and swallows the rest of the drink in one go.

... Cough. Cough cough. AHEM. That was probably not the best way to drink that.]

There, I drank it. Happy?

[promisedsomeone]

[Played like a fucking fiddle. He huffs.] No, I'm done. I didn't come here to stand around.

[... Then what /did/ you come here for, Asch?]

[promisedsomeone]

No, I...

[That remark leaves him speechless. He has no one in his life to tell him these things. It infuriates him that someone can get under his skin so easily, but how can he fight back? He doesn't know how. It's like-- like back then--

That thought makes him flush. He walks toward the drink table briskly, close enough to pass into her personal space but without touching her.]

I'm not going to overstay my welcome, and I'm definitely not doing this for you.

[Uh huh.]

[promisedsomeone]

[He follows suit with a glass of wine. Because he's classy.]

He's a contact.

[Secret Agent Asch... There's more than he's letting on, of course.]

[promisedsomeone]

[You should always believe his serious face. It's when he's smirking that you should be concerned. As it is, he's still recovering from the blush earlier, and very prone to hiding his face behind his wineglass.]

He's been on the Plane for a long time.