“Tell me what you are doing here, or you will taste my blade,” she whispered, her knife pressed almost to the intruder’s throat.
“There will be no need for that, my dear,” he said calmly, stepping away, “though as far as Time Lord greetings go, I’d say your approach is almost refreshing.”
“You are a Time Lord?” she asked, sheathing her blade - but never allowing her hand to stray far from it.
“Yes, for my sins,” he grinned, “my beautiful, wonderful sins. You’re not.”
“I am Leela, warrior of the Sevateem,” she volunteered. “See that you do not sneak up on me again if you value your life.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiled, graciously pressing a polite kiss to the back of her hand.
“I do not trust Time Lords,” she huffed, snatching her hand away.
“And yet you choose to live among them,” he observed wryly, eyebrow raised. “Whereas I spend as little time with them as possible. To hold as much power as our people do and waste it doing nothing? It defies sense.”
“You sound like…” she hesitated. “… like an old friend I used to travel with.”
“Really?” He chuckled incredulously, shaking his head. “My dear, I suspect we have an old friend in common, though if I’m beginning to sound like him, I must be doing something horribly wrong.”