the cunning plan ( the valiant )

[kinda_cheeky]

The cell block is, not unexpectedly, not particularly well-guarded. With one prisoner chained up in the boiler room and the other looking as if he could be knocked over by a feather, the Master probably isn't especially concerned that a daring escape attempt will happen. Clearly, he underestimated the Doctor. The single guard stationed at the

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[youwiththeears]

As is Ears. He looks considerably less daft, determined like this. "We should have hidden him in my cell," he realizes aloud, the moment the lift doors ding shut. Too late now.

[kinda_cheeky]

"It won't be long before they find him, anyway. We'll have to move fast." The Doctor still hasn't said, yet, what it is he's planning to do. He doesn't bother to elaborate, either, simply waiting until the lift stops and the doors slide open once again. The spike of pain through his head is immediate, but he grits his teeth and braces against it, and steps into the corridor beyond.

His breath catches in a unique sort of way as he lays eyes on it, the TARDIS, mutilated into the Master's paradox machine and sitting almost neglected in the center of the metal-grated floor. He starts toward it, but lingers short of actually being able to touch. He knows from prior experience, his first day of wandering, what will happen if he goes that close.

"I need your help," he informs Ears now.

[youwiththeears]

Ears grins to see it, just a flicker, even though he knows now that it's been cannibalized, and of course that it's not his. He barely remembers his own, and he doubts that he'll ever see her again, but to see any TARDIS brings an undeniable lift to his hearts.

"Tell me what to do."

[kinda_cheeky]

That is certainly heartening to see, that perhaps this other, not-quite-him has a little flicker of something that means, deep down, he really is a kindred spirit. The Doctor smiles briefly, albeit wanly, as there is little joy to be had in the cannibalization of his beloved ship. "We're here to dismantle it," he instructs flatly. It would be easier with a sonic screwdriver - any number of things would be easier with a sonic screwdriver - but for his part, he can't even get close.

The Doctor has no illusions, of course, that this will actually do any good. That is not the point. "Start taking parts off. Anything unnatural - anything belonging to the Master's designs." He does trust that there is enough innate Gallifreyan knowledge to tell Ears what belongs and what does not. In some world, he must have had an outdated Type 40 just like it.