one;

[rude_not_ginger]

It had been a long few weeks in France. A long few years, if he was perfectly honest with himself (he was not, of course). Business was difficult. People were becoming more unruly. He'd tried to convince Reinette it was time to leave, but she didn't want to move, not yet. No, too much to do here

Comments

[doyouhearthem]

The Master had been amusing himself serving drinks tonight. Granted, a fair few of them had been for him, but seeing as there were no staff to complain, it didn't much matter. He even cajoled his 'bodyguard' of sorts into taking a drink, knowing he could not say no. It had been fun watching it lap the stuff up obediently, only to screech and spit and go scrambling for the nearest bin. It was only too bad this one wasn't dumb enough to be fooled again.

A man walked through the door, looking distinctly out of place in his rococo dress. The Master mused idly if he remembered any mixes from the time... until he saw the man's face, and his hearts nearly stopped.

Everything else may have been all wrong, but it was him and every part of him knew it. His hands gripped the bar hard enough to crack, waiting for some recognition, a look, some melodramatic remark - surely the Doctor knew by now - but clearly something wasn't right.

[rude_not_ginger]

The Doctor looked around the bar. Alien, certainly. He didn't recognize the alien standing off with the humanoid by the bar, and he certainly didn't recognize the bar.

A rush of pure excitement ran through him. It wasn't France. It wasn't the exile he'd been in these last few years. No, no, this was something entirely new. Not somewhere he'd expected, or even somewhere he'd wanted, but it wasn't the same. He found himself grinning, welcoming the odd place.

The man behind the bar was staring at him. The smile dropped from the Doctor's face and he turned, raising an eyebrow to acknowledge him. There was something about the man, something familiar. He had the strangest desire to reach out to figure him out psychically (he didn't, of course, no point even in this alien world). Instead, he chose to speak to him.

"I don't suppose you have some explanation why my pharmacy has suddenly decided to appear here?"

[doyouhearthem]

The Master nodded back in reply, confusion clouding his face for a moment. That was certainly not the kind of acknowledgment he was expecting. The Doctor didn't know him.

"...Beg your pardon?"

He relaxed a little, or at least gave the appearance of it. His mind was racing, but he knew touching the Doctor's mind would give him away in an instant. Or perhaps not; he could've used a Chameleon Arch, after all, as disappointing a thought that was.

"-Oh! Right, no, this - this is a pub. Bit different from the ones you've been seeing, I'm sure. When were you, Seventeen-something?"

[rude_not_ginger]

"Yes, I did notice that," the Doctor replied curtly. "Definitely a bit far off from where I am, which isn't something I'd mind on a regular basis, except I've left a number of things back in 1763, and I'd rather not leave them behind."

By 'things', he was mostly concerned about one very important thing. One very important person, who had become like a companion throughout the last number of years. It would be wrong to leave her behind. He'd left far too many behind in the past.

And who was this man? How did the Doctor know him? He was absolutely certain he knew him, but he could not place his face. It was always the opposite problem in court, where he'd been introduced to such-and-such noble from such-and-such place and he had no idea he'd ever seen them before. This man, though. This man, he knew.

"Where is this? Besides a pub? And when?"