“Ow. Why should I? I’m putty in your gams. Erm, hams. Hands?”
“Always children’s games with you! “ she cries, throwing her mouth wide in delight, her fangs catching the ambient rays like pearls, “...but I am well amused, this day. You are here in front of me so easily, which means you are a Danger. Speak. What do you want? I am a merciful goddess.”
The Doctor laughs, and the sound rings like death tolls through the room before spilling into the hallway.
“What could you possibly give me? You have the Rose Rings. But you should have checked the Shrine sooner. I was nearly gone by the time they found me.” With a grunt, he turns himself onto his hip, showing the woman a purple splotch of bruise along one side of his modest bump formerly hidden by his shirt. “Your pet guards gave me quite the kick. Does that please you?”
“CLARENCE!” the Pythia yelps, “Mother is cross with you.”
One claw-hand goes up, clenching into an onyx fist with long curling fingernails of dubious frailty and a fractal, odd scaliness.
Clarence is a pile of clothes and helmet at the entryway.
“Nice bit,” the Doctor murmurs, giggling slightly, “...he was gonna betray you eventually. You ‘do’ know that, right?”
“You are a vicious man, Doctor,” the Pythia quips, grinning out from her mouthful of white sharp fangs, “... the Other had issues, but you... oh you! Such a ‘good’ little boy you’ve been! Mommy wants to give you a present!”