"Oi! Will you leave my hair alone? That hurts." Spoken to the guards before he addressed the Master, whatever he was called again, Marcus Blabla. "Sensitive scalp." He bit down on his lower lip thoughtfully as he tried to think of how best to answer the question. "I am actually a doctor. And I try to be a good one." Most of the time at least, even if in recent time the success rate had dropped considerably. "I try to help people." Like the Master, although right at the moment he seemed to be doing damnably fine. Messing about with history.
"You know, I was going to have you beheaded and display it as a warning to never touch my property ever again but I think I might just change my mind," why waste a perfectly good doctor? If he could help, let him help. That was exceptionally important. But he couldn't just let such a crime to without punishment. That part was already set in stone, this doctor would been to be punished but the severity would depend on just how useful he could prove to be. Marcus crouched down so he could see the Doctor better, curiosity obvious on his face.
"If you're such a good doctor and you're successful at your job, why did you try to steal from me? Surely you don't need the money," And if he did, why not seek employment? Why throw his life away to piss off Marcus of all men? "If you're lying or do lie to me, be assured that I can make you long for an execution."
"I wasn't trying to steal from you." This conversation couldn't go well, he knew that. He desperately wished that they could be alone for it. "I came to remind you of some things." Sometimes certain words could trigger memories, but how was he to know which ones? He wet his lips as he thoughts, taking a deep breath. Something the Master couldn't have forgotten, something that would give him some credibility, however flimsy.
"Remind me? What madness are you babbling about. You were doing no such thing. You were caught breaking into my properly, stealing my watch. Such an item can only be glimpsed at by men of my stature. Not by roaming physicians," Marcus insisted with annoyance, unable to believe how this moron was trying to talk himself out of the problem. Couldn't he just confess and accept his punishment like a man? Surely he could if he wanted too.
At the mention of the drums, Marcus stopped, his eyes wide as he stared at the Doctor for a long time. No, he didn't like this. How did this man know about his problem? Was he a spy? He could be! He seemed to be a fine liar. And if he wasn't, then what? A mind read, a witch of some kind? Sneering, Marcus was soon on his feet again, moving away. "I'm tried of this conversation! You're no doctor, you're a liar and a con man."
"A watch? Why the hell do you even know what a watch is? You're Roman! You people don't have watches! You have sun dials! Water... thingies that tell the time somehow! Ingenious, I'll give you that, but my point is, Master, that you shouldn't even know the word watch, much less have one! Doesn't that ever make you think?" What made the Doctor think was that his increase in volume got him knocked to the ground by the guards, because that hurt and he'd much rather avoid pain.
Alright, alright. Different tactic. "I'm not a con man." He'd hate himself for this. "I am not. I just know you. Master, please, don't you know me?"
Why was this strange man saying such things to him? The drums flared up in his head and he had to cover his ears for the moment. What was a watch anyway? He didn't know. Someone had given it to him and told him it was a watch! It was a new invention, a marvellous one at that. Or so he was told, he'd never looked inside. He could just hear the ticking sometimes. He just didn't understand this, why was the Doctor trying to make his head hurt? What kind of terrible doctor sought to hurt?
"I said I don't want to talk about this!" Marcus roared at the top of his voice, turning around with a look of pain and anger on his face. The Doctor was saying such horrible things, how was he to think straight? "Get him away from me! Put him in the cells and make sure he can't escape, I'll deal with him later. Just remove him."
"No! Come on, I can explain it all to you, I can!" But he was already getting dragged away and when he tried calling out again someone simply clamped his mouth shut, so that was the last of that.
Damn, why couldn't it have been someone more like Professor Yana? Now that had been a fine bloke, he was sure they could have had a nice chat without any of this getting chained to a wall business. No food, no comfort and his screwdriver still infuriatingly impossible to reach. This whole plan could have gone a lot better.
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"If you're such a good doctor and you're successful at your job, why did you try to steal from me? Surely you don't need the money," And if he did, why not seek employment? Why throw his life away to piss off Marcus of all men? "If you're lying or do lie to me, be assured that I can make you long for an execution."
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"Do you still hear the drums, Master?"
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At the mention of the drums, Marcus stopped, his eyes wide as he stared at the Doctor for a long time. No, he didn't like this. How did this man know about his problem? Was he a spy? He could be! He seemed to be a fine liar. And if he wasn't, then what? A mind read, a witch of some kind? Sneering, Marcus was soon on his feet again, moving away. "I'm tried of this conversation! You're no doctor, you're a liar and a con man."
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Alright, alright. Different tactic. "I'm not a con man." He'd hate himself for this. "I am not. I just know you. Master, please, don't you know me?"
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"I said I don't want to talk about this!" Marcus roared at the top of his voice, turning around with a look of pain and anger on his face. The Doctor was saying such horrible things, how was he to think straight? "Get him away from me! Put him in the cells and make sure he can't escape, I'll deal with him later. Just remove him."
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Damn, why couldn't it have been someone more like Professor Yana? Now that had been a fine bloke, he was sure they could have had a nice chat without any of this getting chained to a wall business. No food, no comfort and his screwdriver still infuriatingly impossible to reach. This whole plan could have gone a lot better.