"So you're not a Timelord?" Rose asks, just to make sure, and the man smiles. It's a charming smile, she finds, but there's something in his eyes that takes her aback.
He takes a drink of his beer. "Not quite."
"But you died."
"Yes."
"And you're alive!"
"Yes."
"He's an Immortal, Rose," the Doctor cuts in, and turns to speak to the man. "You know, this beer is rather impressive. I didn't expect anything that good in the United States of America." He pronounces those four words overly distinctly, as if they were some sort of foreign or obscure entity. "What is it, Irish?"
"Scottish, actually."
The Doctor makes a small sound of interest, and takes another sip of his beer.
Rose feels as if she has to cut in. "Wait, sorry, he's a what?"
"An Immortal," the Doctor repeats. "Goes around living centuries - " he glances a look at the dark-haired man, frowns, "- millenia, even, I'm impressed, I'd never met any of your kind that was quite that old..."
The man purses his lips. "I'm a survivor."
"I can see that," the Doctor states, and then snaps out of it and turns back to Rose. "Right, sorry, um. Immortals. They... live forever. Unless you chop their heads off."
"Oh." Rose frowns. "Why would anybody do that?"
"Ah," the Immortal lets out. "Let me know if you figure it out."
The Doctor frowns, tilting his head to the side as he observes the man. "Most Immortals believe in a Game. It's - complicated..."
"The last standing Immortal is supposed to get the Prize," the Immortal fills in.
"...or not," the Doctor finishes.
"The Prize?" Rose repeats.
"We're a bit shady on what exactly the Prize is," the Immortal admits. "Now if you'll excuse me. Plane to catch, cities without impending time disasters or alien invasions to be in, not sure I wanna know which one it's going to be this time." At the Doctor's frown, he explains, "Duncan told me about you."
The Doctor breaks into a smile. "You know Duncan!"
"Yes, and I'm rather attached to my life. Thanks for the pint, Doctor. Rose. Hope I won't cross paths with you again."
Rose stood by the Timelord's side as they watched him walk away. "How old is he?"
"Older than he assumes," the Doctor replies, and shakes his head with a small annoyed expression. "I could've told him, if he'd asked."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-05-13 10:33 am (UTC)He takes a drink of his beer. "Not quite."
"But you died."
"Yes."
"And you're alive!"
"Yes."
"He's an Immortal, Rose," the Doctor cuts in, and turns to speak to the man. "You know, this beer is rather impressive. I didn't expect anything that good in the United States of America." He pronounces those four words overly distinctly, as if they were some sort of foreign or obscure entity. "What is it, Irish?"
"Scottish, actually."
The Doctor makes a small sound of interest, and takes another sip of his beer.
Rose feels as if she has to cut in. "Wait, sorry, he's a what?"
"An Immortal," the Doctor repeats. "Goes around living centuries - " he glances a look at the dark-haired man, frowns, "- millenia, even, I'm impressed, I'd never met any of your kind that was quite that old..."
The man purses his lips. "I'm a survivor."
"I can see that," the Doctor states, and then snaps out of it and turns back to Rose. "Right, sorry, um. Immortals. They... live forever. Unless you chop their heads off."
"Oh." Rose frowns. "Why would anybody do that?"
"Ah," the Immortal lets out. "Let me know if you figure it out."
The Doctor frowns, tilting his head to the side as he observes the man. "Most Immortals believe in a Game. It's - complicated..."
"The last standing Immortal is supposed to get the Prize," the Immortal fills in.
"...or not," the Doctor finishes.
"The Prize?" Rose repeats.
"We're a bit shady on what exactly the Prize is," the Immortal admits. "Now if you'll excuse me. Plane to catch, cities without impending time disasters or alien invasions to be in, not sure I wanna know which one it's going to be this time." At the Doctor's frown, he explains, "Duncan told me about you."
The Doctor breaks into a smile. "You know Duncan!"
"Yes, and I'm rather attached to my life. Thanks for the pint, Doctor. Rose. Hope I won't cross paths with you again."
Rose stood by the Timelord's side as they watched him walk away. "How old is he?"
"Older than he assumes," the Doctor replies, and shakes his head with a small annoyed expression. "I could've told him, if he'd asked."