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It took, the Doctor discovered, exactly eleven steps to reach one end of the room from the other. Eight and a half if she used long strides, and five if she hopped.

She finished reciting, for the second time, the happy primes between 79 and 383 and occupied a few seconds glaring at the blank, gray wall. It offered no response, one way or the other. “K-9, how is the window coming?”

The metal dog paused in its work. “Estimated time of breaking: one-point-two days. Suggest new course of action, Mistress.”

The Doctor frowned. “That long, really? I wonder, do they often confine guests to their rooms? It would explain the decor. All right, K-9, do you have an idea?”



“Suggest you send an apology to Chancellor Blackthorn, Mistress.”

She resumed glaring at the wall. “The man tried to stick his hand up my shirt.”

“Affirmative. Estimated chance of success: ninety-six percent.”

Up my shirt,” she said.

“Affirmative.”

The Doctor took a deep breath and reminded herself of exactly how long it could be until she got out of this room, and how completely boring it would be, and then cursed her lack of jacket and, by extension, lack of sonic screwdriver. “All right, K-9. Starting a letter dictation: name file… C. Blackthorn, G.B.A. And print this out when I’m done.”

“Affirmative.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Dear…est Chancellor Blackthorn. Comma. New paragraph.

I wish to send my sincerest apologies for my behaviour at dinner. I was clearly overreacting to the situation when I sprained your finger by grabbing your hand, a completely unintentional result. I would also like to assure you that when I dumped my daiquiri over your head, it was a complete accident, as was kneeing you in the… trousers.

She paused the dictation for a moment in order to remember that accident with a small amount of relish.

I was overexcited in my attempt to gain medical assistance for your hand. I do hope that you are feeling better and that we can put this distressing beginning behind us in order to embrace what I’m certain could be a beautiful relationship. I would be pleased to discuss such future with you if you would grant me the honour of an audience with you.

Yours, the Doctor.
End dictation. Did you get all that, K-9?”

“Affirmative.”

“Good.” The Doctor rammed her fists against the door to attract the attention of any guards nearby. “I have a message for the Chancellor!”


It was entirely too easy to convince the guards to release her instead of taking her to her audience with the Chancellor. It said something about the security on this planet, it really did, and the Doctor considered it a remarkable oversight on the part of the head of security that their guards would be so willing to help a dangerous female prisoner and her metal dog escape.

Still, it was amazingly convenient. She got the idea that this sort of thing had happened before. After all, it wasn’t their fault, poor sods, that they worked for an ass. And bloody nice of them to escort her to the TARDIS, too. She gave the console an affectionate pat and began preparing for dematerialisation before realising she had one thing left to do. “K-9. I have one more dictation for you.”

After a few minutes, she startled a few guards by poking her head out the TARDIS door, waving a piece of paper in the air and calling out to the few guards who were still lingering nearby, “Would one of you mind seeing to it this reaches the Chancellor?”

Chancellor,
Did you know you look fantastic in daiquiri?
I really mean it.
–The Doctor



Community: [livejournal.com profile] theatrical_muse
Prompt: 188 - Write two letters: One to someone you hurt and the other to someone who hurt you.
Word Count: 619
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The Doctor

May 2010

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