Chapter Eight, Part Three: White Flag SaleMature

Then abruptly she pulls back, sinking, her shoulders slumping as she jerks herself back into human form, and settles her hair.

 

 Her fingers melt and fix the wall her copy of Flamina destroyed, moving bits of stone and metal bar back into place here and there.

 

“Don’t... talk about Rory like he’s some disposable tool. That’s ‘your’ talent,” she breathes, turning her back to him as she walks out, “... You’re the one who moves people like chess pieces. I was watching you, in the Factory. In the dark. You don’t even realize how much anymore, do you? Goodbye for now Doctor. And my offer still stands. Merge with me and I’ll take you to the TARDIS.”

 

The Doctor sniffs a stream of blood back up from his broken nose, avoiding a nasty scene under the rim of his nostril, and the taste of himself, for the moment.... before he speaks. “I can’t... do that, Jennifer. I’m not Flesh. I’m sorry.”

 

Jennifer stares at him, cocking her head like an owl, then chortles so hard her hair turns white and sprawls out from her head like a volley of sudden tree limbs. When she is herself once more, she opens her mouth too wide, her fluid jaws uncracking of bone, stretching as her tongue rolls out and smacks his face again, knocking his eyes back and sending him to dreamland.

The End

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