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[attackbrows]

	You've reached Dr. Funkenstein. Expert on all things funkadelic. Please, by all means, save us both the hassle and don't leave a message.
	TEXT | AUDIO | VIDEO

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[bossily]

[Is he...sending her to bed?

She's almost so confused by his steering her back toward the saloon that she isn't sure what to do or say at first.]

Why do I need to go to bed? I'm not even tired.

[Still, she's walking right along with him as he leads the way. That doesn't stop her from glancing up at him like he's grown a second head. Sometimes he takes his duty of care a little too far. Like by giving her a bedtime.]

[attackbrows]

About that, Clara.

[There goes that face again. That face he makes when he has to break something to Clara that he knows might get a smack from her.]

I wasn’t going to mention it to you but your eyes are starting to sink into your face crevice. Figured you and someone else would have a kip before landing here but now we’re reaching catastrophic black hole levels of facial implosion.

[bossily]

[She gasps in offense, digging her heels in.]

What do you mean, you figured me and someone else? What are you trying to say, Doctor?

[He is now wading into dangerous territory, with her bristling and deciding if she wants to give him a smack for being an ass. She knows he doesn't typically mean anything by his insulting her physical appearance, but she's peeved by his insisting she go to bed like she's some sort of child that needs to be told what's best for her.]

[attackbrows]

Who else was I supposed to say?! You know I don’t sleep. I thought you’d form yourself some sort of sleep club with the other human types aboard. Read a little Dostoevsky before calling it in.

[Honestly, he cannot find fault in what he said. Everyone likes sleeping. Who wouldn’t grin at the suggestion of falling asleep for a few hours?]

I’m just saying that you get some sleep before we do anything else. Not perform the macarena in front of a stadium Cybermen!

[bossily]

[She stares up at him in near disbelief, but believes what he's saying. He doesn't usually intend on offending her. And she's a little wound tight and easily offended right now.]

I had someone I could've shared a bed with. But I don't anymore.

[Which is about all she's going to reveal about her recent romantic entanglement. Thankfully, she doesn't necessarily make it sound like one.]

When I'm tired, I'll sleep. Okay?

[Her tone's light by the end, careful not to seek an argument. She just wants to appease him and let him know that she's heard him and she'll consider resting. ]

un: navigator

[droide]

[ It's quite late at night, when a text comes through the Doctor's earpiece. ]

I'm looking for the Doctor. Not the gangly one who is pretending to be married to Clara, but the other one, who plays the guitar. Do I have the right Doctor?

un: doctor.disco

[attackbrows]

[Finally, some long-needed acknowledgement in the wee hours of the night.]

The one and only non-gangly, non-bowtie enthusiast Doctor on board this crew.

[droide]

Oh good, I have the right one.

I'd like to file a complaint.

1/2

[attackbrows]

[Okay. Not that type of acknowledgement.]

[attackbrows]

--This is a voicemail. Please submit any forms of complaints and/or discontent to one Raleigh Becket.

[droide]

Oh, I see how it is. When you think there's a compliment coming your way, you're all ears, but as soon as the hammer comes down, nobody's home.

Coward.

[attackbrows]

You call it cowardice. I consider it to be a form of very effective, selective hearing.

A practical skillset to have when you are running around for more than two thousand years.

[droide]

[ Hang on, that's actually interesting. ]

Two thousand? You're either extremely well preserved, or not entirely human.

[attackbrows]

You're correct about the latter but I will also accept the former as a well-crafted, backhanded compliment.

Does that surprise you?

[droide]

A bit. You look human.
What are you if not that?

[attackbrows]

Time Lord. Born on the planet Gallifrey in a galaxy far, far away.

Best not delve too deep into details unless we'd be here a while.

[droide]

That's a bit presumptuous, isn't it?
"Time Lord."

Who are you trying to impress?

[attackbrows]

Nobody! That's what my people are called. We're time lords.

[droide]

The existence of a lord implies that there is someone or something you are lording over. Otherwise why not just call yourselves time people?

[attackbrows]

[...Okay. Point taken.]

Did I mention that we are a very old race with very old traditions?

[droide]

Very old traditions of subjugating people who you deem to be beneath you in some way???

[attackbrows]

No. That is you jumping to a conclusion. At no point did I ever mention subjugating others.

[droide]

If you're not subjecting anyone then why are you lords?

[attackbrows]

As I said: A very old nomenclature created by very old people.

The first people to harness time travelling technology, but it is not our place to meddle or look down upon others.

[droide]

Oh, yes. That brings me back around to my complaint!

If not looking down on others is so important to you, then why did you tell Primsy Klemons that her needlepoint looked like a drunken cow?
She had a hissy fit over it all afternoon at the tea shop!

[ Yes, this is what L3-37 has been reduced to by this mission. Mediating disputes over local gossip. ]