Lackluster

Bargain

As the days pass by, Y/N is embroiled in experiments, physicals, training, and her work as The Doctor's assistant scribe. The only freedom she receives comes on the days he sees fit to reward her for a job well done by letting her have the day to herself. It has become somewhat of a routine by now. She seems to have made a reliable impression on The Doctor if the frequency of his rewards are anything to go by. She might as well say he let her have every weekend off. It was almost like having a real job...but then again, if she thought about it...that's what it was, wasn't it? A real job.

She is disturbed to see how quickly she is beginning to accept this new life. She argues with herself that It honestly isn't that bad. If she could cut his experiments out of the equation, she would almost say it was a perfect life. She was provided with a warm place to sleep, three meals a day, clothes on her back, her basic human needs were cared for... and now she had a job. That's the definition of a good life, right? Well, maybe not a good one but a stable one. She is still missing something vital, but she couldn't put her finger on it. The woman is worried that she is beginning to lose her mind. Maybe she was.

Her desk is scattered with The Doctor's most current set of notes and an ink-filled sheet of paper lays directly before her. She is in the process of creating an analysis for him. Surprisingly, it took her little time to grasp the concept from Néos when he explained it to her. It was kind of like putting together a puzzle. Just a few more lines and she would be done. She was to meet up with the Harbinger in 15 minutes to turn in her most recent survey. It was almost like turning in a research paper to a teacher. She grimaces at the comparison and sincerely hopes she gets another good grade.

Quickly she copies down the last few lines and looks up at Mikhail where he stands with a bored expression by one of the massive bookcases. The man was always like this when she worked. He hated being idle. She had learned that about him very quickly. He was a man that craved a mission and she sometimes wondered if he disliked her because The Doctor had made him her personal guard. From what she had gathered from Néos, The man had been a field agent right up until they had brought her into the lab. It looks like her life wasn't the only one that had been upended.

'...but at least he doesn't have to put up with the shit I do on a daily basis,'

She sighs, adding the last punctuation to the paper and setting her quill aside. The woman reaches her hands over her head and stretches. Her back pops audibly. She has been bent over this desk for the better part of six hours writing away. Looking toward Mikhail, she speaks.

"You ready?"

He grunts in agreement, but she notices that he immediately snaps to attention at the promise of movement and she grins.

"Let's go then."

He rolls his eyes and motions for her to follow him. She likes to pretend she is in control, but she knows she really isn't.

'Who cares, it makes me feel better.'

The two make their way down the blue-lit halls to the Harbinger's office. She had only been in the room a handful of times. Once when she arrived and three times to turn in another report. Most of the time he was in one of his labs. They made their way quickly and before long she stood before his intimidating desk once more.

"Oh, finished already? You are becoming quite the little assistant, I must say."

She sits the stack of papers on his desk, sliding it toward him.

"You know me. I do perfection best."

The man chuckles. "Cheeky little girl."

He takes the report in hand and falls silent as he begins to scan the content. Several minutes go by, and she turns to observe the room while she waits.