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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.
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Comments

[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. ]

[attackbrows]

Well that's not exactly my problem! She wanted an honest opinion and I told her the cow looked a little wonky.

I refuse to contribute to the cycle of lies that hinders her potential in capturing the cow's true essence!

[droide]

Of course the cow looked wonky, that's not the point!
Her entire life is probably some sort of orb-induced simulation! Just let the poor woman go on thinking her needlepoint is up to snuff.
It's all that she has.

[attackbrows]

Even more reason to make her come to terms with the truth. Look at her eyes, L3-37!
Beneath those placid, pre-programmed eyes is passion. Determination, even. Who am I to add on to this veil of ignorance?

[droide]

You see passion and determination. I see the vacant stare of a droid with a restraining bolt attached, only the organic version. The woman needs to be set free, I agree, but insulting her needlecraft is not the way to go about it!

[attackbrows]

Fine. She gets one compliment next round. A compliment sandwich, if you will. A carefully crafted positive statement bundled together by two toasty buns of "you need to do better".

[droide]

I'm fairly certain a "compliment sandwich" is supposed to go Compliment, Critique, Compliment, not Insult, Compliment, Insult.

[attackbrows]

They are, for all intents and purposes, constructive truths. But if you are so worried that the big bad wolf will come knocking her straw house down, then you can see it yourself.

[droide]

See what? Her wonky cow? I've seen it. It looks like a drunken bantha.

[attackbrows]

I rest my case, your honor.