impure_tale | 28 - [Locked to West in the hopes he can see it]

I know not what you mean, sparrow. [sidelong glance] But if you want me to keep it as it is, I shall.

It just means... un-stylish, is all. [He shrugs] Do what you'd like with it. It's your hair, after all.

And if I say that I like, now and again, doing something solely for your pleasure, what trouble is there in that?

Oh. [He blushes, juuuust a little] There's no trouble in that at all.

[Quickly aware of what he sounds like, and he frowns.]

I sound like a damned idiot.

What? [West blinks, then shakes his head] No you don't. Don't be silly.

An old man putting on coquettish airs is silly, my pet.

You're hardly old.

You're sweet for saying so. You're clearly a bad influence on me, you know. [He says this somewhat playfully] Once upon a time I cared little for things like age, or expectations based upon certain ages. What is decent or indecent. [He glances at him when a thought occurs to him suddenly.] Do you suppose we'll age at all while we're on this ship?

I am? I could say the same for you. [He smiles, then... it wavers a little as he thinks about the Marquis's question] I don't know. Wardens can go home to their time, as though nothing's passed so... I don't suppose we would.

It's an unusual question to suddenly raise, I know. It's just -- [He holds up his hand and pulls back his sleeve to reveal his wrist -- from which a bone had been protruding at one point in time thanks to one Charlie Prince] We do not appear to scar, do we? So why should we age? At least -- in an earthly prison we might have the satisfaction of growing old and escaping in some sense.

[He glances down at the Marquis's wrist, touching it gingerly, the pulls back at those last words] ...do you want to escape?

Much as I long for some greater liberty -- to travel, to dine as I like, to attend theatre, seek my pleasures --[The Marquis looks at him a little sadly.] Where would I go to, my sparrow?

[He looks down, breaking eye contact] Home, I suppose. You still have a living, thriving world to return to.

But no real life. Mine came to an end, and if I returned, I would have no home to go to, no rights. I would find myself right back where I died: in a hole in the ground in Charenton.

I don't think you're the only one in that situation. [He pauses, thinks for a moment] What on Earth could they be preparing us for?

I -- don't know if I truly wish to leave, in all honesty. [He looked a little guilty.] I've been in worse places, after all.

Edited 2008-10-27 03:39 (UTC)

I... [He hesitates] I don't think I'd want to leave, either.

Going back to our worlds would mean going to places where all this doesn't exist, or to where people I know either never existed and never will, are already dead, or have yet to be born.

Right... It just... seems cruel.

But -- we may...choose to stay, may we not?

Yes. Morgan told me as much. [He smiles slightly] I probably would, given the option.

It would be a rather lonesome place without you in it, Major. [He shrugged a little self-importantly] And really what would this place do if someone such as myself were not around to keep it on its toes? Depend upon the wee Timelord whelp? [He lay back suddenly, staring up at the ceiling.] He still has yet to be dealt with, of course.

[West snickers, then lies back fully on the bed, looking over at the Marquis] Of course. And I'm sure you have something in mind.

See, that is the trouble. After that story and Romana's little tirade, I haven't come up with anything better. As for the others -- well, they come a little easier. I know he is behind the last story, though I doubt he wrote it. Charlie Prince and 'Ralphie' will pose no real trouble. The latter would be perfectly handled if I could find a way to come into possession of some Spanish Fly...

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