“So, my friends, Pasmodius is blissfully absent, so at least we shall be availed of his whinging for the moment of your timely return,” Rassilon murmurs softly into the Citadel-to-Shuttle comms as the metal bead that is the interplanetary shuttle teleports smoothly into the bumping fracas of the teleport bay. “Step out of your Flesh, and then come out from the cabin- we await your update of our data on the situation.”
The little bead grows to size like a hungry droplet, drawing smaller breaks of water to itself before finally materializing completely. The door melts down both sides, becoming an apparent line to the left and right as it writes itself in the shiny metal of the shuttle’s hull.
Jack Harkness is standing slightly behind him, waving languidly as the occupants of the shuttle’s cabin file out toward the small, cloistered crowds of on-looking Time Lords like querents to the social offices.
“And it seems we have two fewer members of our little troupe, as well. What happened to Benjamin and the Master, River?” Jack asks, leaning on a column near Rassilon’s shoulder with his foot up, owning the wall.
River looks up as she walks, holding her prize up for everyone to see, while Borusa wanders behind, her little blonde head bobbing as she finds eyes to meet and gazes to align herself with, out of habit.