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I seem to be on a roll... either that or this is all my Muse can handle at the moment. Three more, one for each of my favorites again:

Title: Definitely the Water
Characters: Vicki, One
Summary: Oh yes, that’s it, you know what Romans were like. (Prompt 'twitterpated')

“I don’t know what’s gotten into those two,” Vicki complained. “They seemed like such sensible people until just lately.”

“Why do you say that?” the Doctor asked distractedly. He twiddled a knob on the console and hmmed to himself. “Are they ill?”

“No. But I wonder if there might have been something in the water at that Roman villa, Doctor.”

He glanced over. “Why, what are the symptoms, child?”

“Giggling,” she said decidedly. “Playing with each other’s hair. And they never want me around anymore! Is it serious?”

“Oh yes, I should think so,” he chuckled. “Yes, very serious indeed.”

--
Title: Face It
Characters: Two, Jamie
Summary: It's not something he'd ever wanted to practice.
(reference to the 'other Jamie' of The Mind Robber, prompt 'fairy tale')


Jamie ran his hand over his face again, he just couldn't help it; it felt so foreign, worse than bandages or mumps or toothaches because it wasn't a swelling, it was a change.

"How could y' do this to me?" he groused accusingly.

"Oh, I…er, it was dark," the Doctor dithered.

"No it wasn't."

"My hand twitched."

"I dinna think so."

"Artistic license."

"Oh, is that what you call it, now! Admit you didn't pick the right parts!"

"Well, you must admit I've never had to pick your nose before. And it's hardly a skill I care to refine."

--


Title: Priorities
Characters: Three, the Master
Summary: Even in times of danger, he remembered what was truly important. (prompt 'steam')

Steam coiled thickly in the chamber, the Master’s key to triumph: a malevolent creature that would soon go forth, taking over men’s minds. It bubbled in its artificially warm environment.

Its keeper laughed at the Doctor’s forlorn expression. “What’s the matter, Doctor? Your face gives you away. You’ve finally realized your futility against my superior intellect, perhaps?”

There was a whoosh. The Master bit his cigar in half as vents opened, dumping freezing air. The surprised alien bubbled and died.

“No,” the Doctor replied. “I was just thinking it’s going to take hours to get the curl back into my hair.”

--

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