( catch-all) the definite article, you might say

[thedreamer]

Who: The Doctor & You Don't Know It Yet But You're Already Friends
When: September
Where: Cadens, Horizon
What: General catch-all!~
Warnings: None currently but will change accordingly if needed!

Comments

apologies for the delay! i've been down with the rona

[righteously]

( Fifteenth century earns the stranger a squint, as though that's the first moment this conversation's gotten weird. What the hell-

No time to dwell, though, because the excitable man carries on quite passionately about the bits, and Dean holds his hands up in a passive sort of surrender. With a scoff: )

Obviously the bits.

( You gotta have the bits. If it doesn't have the bits, does it even count?? Hell no, if you ask him.

Anyway, enough about constellation potato soup. There's something faintly wry, something a little knowing in his expression as he studies the man more seriously. It's a soft, very tired look — the kind men wear when they feel old, when they've seen things. )

Not really a weapons guy, huh?

( That's the kind of opinion a man forms in either one of two cases: he hasn't been exposed to them enough, or he's been exposed to them way too much. )

never worry! glad you're feeling better

[thedreamer]

[ Yes, good, all points for the other man as he agrees heartily that the bits are absolutely critical to the success and allowance of potato soup in this strange and wondrous cluster of stars.

Oh, but then the question —

Yes. Weapons. Nasty things. He's seen far too much of what they can do, far too much destruction. Enough of war to last another thousand lifetimes. What he's seen, he would never wish for anyone else to carry, but then there's...something in the other man's eyes. ]

Unless absolutely necessary! And when necessary, I always keep a spoon handy. And I have myself.

[ His words, his actions, his very nature. Does he recognize that can only take him so far? Certainly. He's even been forced on rare occasions to use his sonic screwdriver in defense, but he does loathe ever having to. ]

thank ye kindly!!

[righteously]

( Congratulations on putting an absolutely dumb look on Dean's face — confused, mildly uncomprehending, mouth open and brow scrunched up for a long second before he finally manages: )

Sp- I'm sorry, spoon? Like-

( He fumbles for an explanation for a second and then, since it's particularly topical tonight, settles on: )

As in, soup? Spoon.

( Or is this like weird alternate universe terminology for a trebuchet or something?? )

[thedreamer]

That sort of spoon, yes, you've got it.

[ The Doctor is more than used to strange reactions to...much of what he says and it rarely makes him bat an eye. ]

No preference on embellishments, though I like the ones a bit more angular and less rounded — multi-functional in a pinch! A spoon and an open mind, that'll do me. It has done for a very long time now.

[righteously]

( Long, long, long pause.

At length, Dean's hands come up a few seconds before he actually finds words, gesticulating silently with his palms up; hang on, just- one second. )

Let me- okay. Let me pitch you a hypothetical.

( A pause with an arched eyebrow that sort of reads are you with me on this? )

Let's say- hypothetically- a Sandskid were to burst out of the ground over there and start eating people. Paint me a word picture on what you'd do with that spoon.

( As near as he can figure, it's either going to be the most lame thing he's ever heard, or the most absolute badass — like some kind of one punch of death mystical Monk crap. )

[thedreamer]

[ It's the sort of hypothetical he's encountered before from others dubious at his insistence on not using weapons. So, he's more than prepared. ]

Some creatures act quickly on base instinct, I'll grant you. We might have seconds only to spare, no time at all for negotiations. If it's eating people, that's where I come in. Naturally, I put myself in front of it with the spoon fully extended.

Starlight or sunlight would reflect off the spoon's surface, generally enough to distract anything at least momentarily. If it's operating at a higher intelligence, it buys me time to talk to it, see if I could reason with it. If nothing else, time enough for anyone around to start running away. I'd run, too, but in the opposite direction, leading the creature with me out as far as we could go. You might say, why would it follow me, well, why not, I'll be the loudest one around! It'll follow just to shut me up.

[ In all of this, it's quite clear he has no fear for himself. He'd only care for the well-being of everyone else around him. ]

A long distance from everyone else, now it's just me and the sandskid, more time to tame it, neutralize it, learn more about it. Every creature has a weakness, a vulnerability. Maybe it's got terrible vision, can't hear, only attracted to movement and vibrations. I can work out how it functions and why it's chosen to eat people suddenly. But if there are no other alternatives, if its true food source hasn't suddenly disappeared and if it absolutely just wants to eat people, then I dig a trap for it in the sand with my spoon, play a song for it against the rocks and lull it to a sleep there's no waking from.

[ Last resort. Always. But beneath the whimsy, the optimistic veneer, the cheerfulness and the hope he clings to, lurks a dangerous man, a darkness very carefully held back for the sake of the universe. ]