That is the wonderful thing about cold hard tables, Romana thought as she rested her pounding head upon her presidential desk. They are cold and hard.
The terrible thing about cold hard floors however is that you can hear the clacking of shoes, regardless of type clicking across them. She was pondering the effort she would have to go to to get a decree for making everyone one who steps foot upon the presidential floor wear slippers, when she heard the offender's voice.
"Are you all right, my lady?"
Braxiatel had his flaws (oh, did he have his flaws) but his voice, even through the haze of several Daleks being taught how to tap dance by a group of Cybermen inside of her head, was certainly not one of them.
She breathed out a sigh. "Iris Wildthyme."
"Ah." What more needed to be said? "Shall I get you some pain killers?"
"Hm," she agreed. Kill the pain. Revenge the foul assault against her beautiful precious brain. "Plenty of aspirin." A noble death, certainly. Leela would surely think so.
"My lady," he replied, managing to sound both amused and worried as he clacks back out.
Cosmos, that door is loud.
What a nice, cold, hard table this is. The door opened again. Braxiatel probably disobeyed her orders about the aspirin. It might be amusing to have him arrested for failing to kill the president. Wonder if that's been done before?
"Madam President," Narvin began.
That made her raise her head which in turn caused her to feel it was two weeks ago. Damnable hangover. "What is it, Narvin?" Can't you see I'm awaiting my certain death?
Narvin looked surprised at her condition, resembling as it did one of the ancient Vampires of old. "… The Nekkistanis, my lady."
Narvin's calling her that now too? Before she could tear him a new one, Braxiatel returned.
"I'm so sorry!" he said, darting a glare in Narvin's direction, before holding out a concoction (aspirin free) to her with a contrite expression. "I did say that you weren't to be disturbed."
Narvin clearly wasn't sorry to circumvent Brax's orders but Romana was too busy knocking back that vile stuff (which was bound to work, of course, as all vile stuffs do) to summon a response.
She was swallowing her retching when Leela trotted in, as bright as day, her K-9 trundling after her. "Are you all right, Romana?" she asked, apparently not noticing Romana's glare of disbelief.
"Iris Wildthyme," the two men answered together, making Romana wince.
"I hereby decree that choral speaking is forbidden in the presidential office," she said, half serious.
"I miss her too, Romana, it is not often we are allowed a 'girls' night out?' Perhaps we should get her back?"
"No!" said all three of them. Romana glared at the two men, who looked like they've just stepped on their own feet. Saved her doing it.
"That is to say," Romana continued. "Iris is just one of those Time Lords who can't sit still for very long. It wouldn't be fair to her to drag her back solely to keep me company."
Leela nodded in understanding. "Like the Doctor."
"And like the Doctor, we should see as little of her as possible," Narvin remarked.
"I'm sure the House of Fordfarding laments that fact," Brax said pointedly.
Romana stared at him, having no clue why he's saying that that way but Narvin scowled and huffed, so apparently it hit home.
"I think I'm going to be sick," she declared with equal weight before turning heel and striding out that way.