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dropped:the doctor (five)

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[he starts off with an assuring smile, even as the fog rolls around him]

Hello. I'm the Doctor; I've met quite a few people already. I don't seem to be affected by the fog, so I wanted to offer my -

[he stops abruptly, brow furrowing]

Did anyone hear that?

[he turns, then, focusing off-camera - and then the colour drains from his face, the strength from his voice]

Adric?

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[his frown deepens as he shakes his head] Too many such voices are appropriated - stolen.

[he adds his own voice to the quotation, soft and faint; there's a weary, wistful admiration to his voice]

Perhaps speaking of them will help?

[He's torn for a moment, considering what Dylan told him. But he knows what he loves about his people. He knows what he holds above all else about it.]

We're warrior poets that travel the stars and bring civilization. We know personal respect, because we know shaming is how you wound someone with words. We're competitive with others and ourselves so we might grow personally from it, and build ourselves stronger for no other reason than to improve. We know the truth you see, and the truth you don't see. We are egoistic, vain, selfish, and we love our children. And those that give us those children deserve absolute say in how they spend their lives, and that all sentient beings deserve the right to stand up and fight for themselves.

I heard some of my people become something else in later centuries. But for hundreds of years, this is what we've been and what we should be. [He looks more proud then as he looks at his boneblades. Then a little sad, and hums thoughtfully. He'd prefer Nietzscheans as he knew them, not whatever Dylan was describing.]

[the Doctor smiles as he listens; he wishes he could take such pride in his people, that he could speak of them with sincere fondness]

If your people changed for the worse, it's certainly possible they can change again.

What about yours? [Since they're talking, and as long as they're talking the Doctor seems to be- well, he doesn't know whether he's seeing things or not, but he at least seems to be very much in control of himself.]

[his smile becomes a wry smirk] My people.

[he sighs, then, pushing a hand through hair] The Time Lords. They - were innovators, once. Explorers. Defenders. They certainly weren't flawless, but they tried.

[he shakes his head] Over the millenia, Gallifrey has grown stagnant. Aloof. Corrupt. More concerned with its own pompous superiority than the wonders and atrocities of the universe. We're the keepers of Time, and of the glorious, unwavering status quo.

[he sees her, then, just a flickering glimpse out of the corner of his eye, and he can't help but smile] I...do have some hope for change, for the first time since I was a child.

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely, which is a problem to those without power." A paraphrase of Drago Museveni. [He grins again.]

As you said. Your people have changed for the boring. [It sounds boring to him, anyway.] Perhaps one day the will remember invention.

[He might have actually met Nietzsche and might not be fog crazy. Time travel is known to exist in his time- more of a hazard that's to be avoided, for fear of influencing relevant events. To explore it would be hazardous... if very interesting.]

[a wry, soft chuckle] Indeed it does.

Boring is delightfully apt. [a sudden, nostalgic smile] I did my very best to disrupt that, in my youth.

[He purses his mouth with a mischievous look.] Ah, then your people are still capable of actual childhoods, then? [If they didn't become something far more offensive, he'd be grateful his people didn't one day become boring.]

[with a faint smirk] That depends on one's definition, I suppose. I did my utmost to be very childish. [he taps his lips] Oddly enough, it seemed to agitate people.

I somehow find myself inclined to believe that might have been intentional. [And again, the personal space was invaded- but only slightly. He touched the bright hem of his frock coat.]

This doesn't look like a scientist's outfit.

[the Doctor's getting used to that, and he doesn't withdraw from the touch; on the contrary, his smile deepens] No, and it certainly doesn't exist on Gallifrey. They've never given cricket the slightest thought, I'm sure.

Cricket? [With that distant sort of awareness that comes with someone recognizing a game they'd heard mentioned in an old book rather than a game they'd ever seen actively played. Not that he has anything against sports- he enjoys them quite a bit, even if his preferences for games are tactical.] This is what they [wore] wear?

More or less, yes. I added the frock coat and forwent the pads. [his eyes suddenly widen] I think I might - [he slips a hand in his pocket, rummaging around] Ah!

[and he pulls out a smooth red ball, holding it out to Rhade] This is a cricket ball. Came in very useful, once.

[That pocket had looked a lot flatter a moment before, and as soon as he took the ball he also leaned in and tugged the pocket open to look into it.] Do you have a hidden panel in here?

[the pocket looks far deeper than it ought, crowded with entirely too many bits and bobs; with a sly grin] Something like that, yes.

[He would be tempted to jam his arm down into his pocket if he weren't concerned the boneblades would stick. So instead he pats around the fabric, feeling to see if it was as flat as it looked outside, but then looks again at the cavernous inside.

Finally, half in humor, he looks at the Doctor.] I think the fog finally got to me.

[the Doctor shakes his head, grin lingering] No, your mind is perfectly sound.

This coat is rather unique.

[He gives him a sort of off-kilter smile.]

I believe that's an understatement. But I am impressed. [And once again, he returned the Doctor's personal space to him, tactile juggling the cricket ball over his hand to test the weight.]

Would you like to show me? Cricket, that is. No one plays it anymore.

[But he likes games.]

[oh, his smile is just delighted now] I would love to. I have a cricket pitch, actually, in - [and his face falls] In my TARDIS.

[He offers him the ball back.]

What's a game if you can't make adjustments to suit need?

[the Doctor accepts, catching it a few times as he smiles] Very true.

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