Crack, crack, crack. I was bored and looking at the unfilled prompts and now I can no longer read one of my favourite books.
"Look" said the Doctor, trying for as reasonable a tone possible when arguing with megalomaniac over classic English literature role-play.
The Master stopped and hitched up his dress, wig falling slightly askew and walked back to the Doctor.
"What?" he snapped.
"Why we can't do this inside?"
The Master folded his arms, "So we can have authentic settings for your fantasies, but not for mine!"
"That was inside a castle! This is a moor in winter!"
"It's Wuthering! And I don't see why you're complaining Heathcliff; you're not wearing the dress!"
"You wanted to wear it!" and he started to run his hands through his hair.
"Stop that, unless you're trying for the wild, tossed look. You're meant to be surly! And brooding! And I had to wear the dress, you can't pull off surly how would you manage insane?!" then he stomped off muttering about the Doctor being in the wrong regeneration for this one.
The Master stopped when he realised the Doctor still wasn't following him.
"Don't make me go looking for an Edgar Linton to ravish me!"
"Damn" the Doctor muttered and ran to catch up with him.