A random drabble written at midnight while I was drinking Coke and listening to Repo! The Genetic Opera. What else can I say? Pretty much a more in detail random text I sent to my sad friend that I turned into a drabble because it was fun. Enjoy. If it makes no sense, it's mainly because it's an inside joke between me and a friend.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. It'd be awesome if I did, though.

"So, tell me, Mister…" The tweed clad brunette looked over the hastily filled out information form on his clip board, searching for a name. He frowned at the only name that was there, written very largely. It wasn't very proper. He was most definitely a narcissist, "… Master. Why is it that you've come in to see me today?"

The young psychologist set his clipboard on the end table next to his chair. Crossing his legs and lacing his fingers together, he studied the scruffy looking blonde who had earlier entered his office and demanded to have a session with him. His new "patient" was in sitting in a chair adjacent from him, leaning back into the plush chair with his arms resting on both arms of the chair, as if he was sitting upon a throne. He was dressed in nothing fancy. A simple attire consisting of baggy black pants, gray running shoes, and a black hoodie. His hair was bleached and he obviously hadn't shaven for days, stubble growing on his face. Really, he could be a little more presentable. Though, beggars can't be choosers. The young man's practice was struggling. There were fewer patients now than there were in the beginning, not enough money to keep up with costs. He really would hate to charge his patients any more than was needed.

When Doctor John Smith (that was what was one his name tag at least) received no reply from the man, he grew concerned. Why wasn't he answering? Was he perhaps a little slow in the head? Nervous, maybe? The Silence was making him nervous, that was for sure. Unconsciously, he adjusted his bowtie (a nervous, annoying twitch of his), making sure it was straight. He never had liked the Silence. If there was one fear that he would admit to, it was his fear of Silence. That and angel statues. Really, what was there to like about those eerily creepy winged figures? He didn't like wine much either. Disgustingly bitter stuff. Oh, but if he had fish fingers and custard than everything was perfect! There was nothing better than- wait! The Doctor's patient finally moved, resting his face on his hand in a thinking pose.

"Why am I here you ask?"

His tone seemed to almost be mocking him, a smirk now graced his face. It was a rhetorical question, of course, requiring no response. The Doctor knew this, and choose not to reply to his patient. After another moment, "the Master" chuckled and spoke again.

"Well, that's a relatively easy question to answer."

He stopped smirking and stared intently at the young man before him. It sent an unfamiliar feeling through the Doctor's body. What was this? Was this fear? Was he sudden afraid of his new patient? But why? Why did he need to even ask that question? The crazed look in his patient's eyes told him why. He could tell from his patient's eyes that the blonde before him was insane. Completely and utterly mad. Not only that, but in despair. He could see into his very soul and see the suffering that he was enduring. Why did he feel that way? The Doctor didn't know. But he told himself right then and there that'd he find out. He'd use all the power he had to find out and help this poor lunatic. He realized it wasn't fear that coursed through his veins now, it was determination. A determination that he was determined to fulfill.

"You see, I suppose it's because the last shrink I spoke to, couldn't help me. I was just too, what's the word, oh yes! Difficult."

Well, that's it, I suppose. I hope you enjoyed the little drabble, and you know what? I might just continue it if anyone thinks I should. Review please! It helps me greatly! :D