The Master Calls

Chapter 6

The alarm blared at six sharp the next morning and Rose groaned, reaching out blindly to hit the snooze button. She finally located it and swatted it, shutting off the annoying buzzing. She sighed and snuggled deeper under the covers.

"Come on. Time to get up," the Master ordered, shaking her awake.

She yanked back the covers and glared at him. He seemed unperturbed and placed a mug of tea on her bedside table. She noted that he was dressed in a black suit, his bleach blonde hair styled.

"Where did you get the suit? I thought it would take a week for them to arrive," she asked, sitting up and taking a grateful sip of the hot tea. She could get used to this.

"I bought these as backup until the others arrived," he said, going to the windows and yanking open the curtains, letting in the blinding light.

"Looks good," she said, taking another sip of tea. And the suit did look good on him. He cut quite the debonair figure in it.

He gave her a pleased smile. "And you look like crap. Now get up and get ready."

She rolled her eyes. "What's the rush?"

"I'm eager to get my hand on some alien technology. There's a couple of things I need to make and I'm hoping Torchwood will be the treasure trove I need. Now up and at 'em!" He walked out the room without a backward glance.

Rose sighed. Back to work today. The first thirty years had been fun and exciting, but she found that the last twenty years had become lacklustre and tedious. Nothing held excitement for her anymore. Is that why Time Lords continuously ran? Were they constantly in search of excitement and fun? If so, how long would it be before the Master got bored? She shuddered at the thought. The human Doctor was manic in his energy, and got bored very quickly, which had led to some spectacular explosions. And he was the good guy with a conscience. What about the Master. He had described himself as both a psychopath and a sociopath. 'Bananas' was the exact word he had used last night. Granted, that had been in the past. What about now? She thought back to the day she had spent with him and noted there had been no madness in his actions, except that once. But that hadn't really been madness. More anger than anything else. But it was early days yet.

She drained her perfectly made tea and went to the bathroom. She halted at the mirror and groaned at her reflection. Her hair was standing up in a scary mess and make-up that she hadn't properly washed off was smeared all around her eyes, giving her the racoon effect. He had been right. She did look like crap. And she inwardly found that she liked this trait of his. He was brutally honest with her.

She showered and then dressed in black jeans and a black shirt, typical Torchwood uniform. She pulled on her calf-high leather boots that were comfortable and easy to run in. She blow dried her hair and straightened it, pulling it into a high ponytail. Then she applied her make-up and decided to go a little easy on it. She sat back and looked at herself in the mirror. The look was different, subtle.

She headed downstairs and found him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper and eating an omelette. She sat down, her own omelette waiting for her. She tucked in, savoring the delicious taste.

"Where'd you get the newspaper?" she asked.

"I had it delivered," he replied, now sipping on his tea.

She wasn't surprised. He had taken great liberties with her credit card. But she didn't really care. Money had lost all meaning to her a long time ago.

He looked up and frowned slightly. "You look different."

"Good different or bad different?" she replied, taking another bite.