Up Against The Wall
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Disclaimer: All things Doctor Who belong to the BBC. All things Simpsons belong to Matt Groening, Fox Television, or some combination thereof. Nothing belongs to me and I'm not making any money by writing this. Just having fun.
A/N: Thanks to Kittenmommy for inspiration.
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Today, as every day, the student with the too-wise eyes and the too-smart mouth was up against the wall. As every day, he was writing on it. And, as every day, Borusa was watching him. Got to watch that one.
Today he was writing "I will not hack the Panatropic Net" 150 times on the blackboard.
Theta Sigma, that was his designation. His name was another matter, as was his ancestry, which remained something of a mystery. Officially he hailed from the once-noble, now-scorned House of Lungbarrow, but most of his House seemed to shun him. Regardless of what the official view was -- and Gallifreyans have a great respect for officialdom -- he was not one of theirs.
Whose was he then? No one would say, and his father had vigorously fought off any attempts to analyse his son's genetic makeup. Some scandal, perhaps? Some accident with the Loom that might bring yet more dishonor? The House of Lungbarrow may have been disgraced, but it still held enough power to keep at bay the vultures who, given the chance, would pick the boy apart to learn his secrets.
Vultures who wore Gallifreyan bodies. Whatever the boy was, he didn't deserve that. Borusa felt his hearts race as he thought of the things his own kind were capable of. He hated them. What?! A Time Lord of his rank shouldn't be feeling these things! He called upon age-old detachment meditations to calm himself.
He glanced at the boy, who was still diligently writing "I will not hack the Panatropic Net." Too right you won't, you little (obscure Gallifreyan expletive deleted).
Harsh language aside, Borusa didn't hate the student. Didn't hate any of his students, really, although this one should be easy to hate. He was sure that that fierce intelligence, that intense energy, could be redirected to more appropriate pursuits.
It would be hard to find more inappropriate pursuits. What was it last time? "I will not sing bawdy Venusian songs in study hall".
And before that? "TT capsules are not for joyriding".
And before that? "Ceremonial headdresses are not airfoils". He had to admit he was impressed with how far it had sailed, though.
Yes, this strange student of his bore close watching. If Borusa succeeded, this brilliant, disruptive individual might be molded into a paragon of Time Lord virtue. If not, his antics would at least provide some comic relief from the bureaucratic tedium.
A somber chime sounded through the even-more-somber halls of learning, and Borusa quickly checked on young Thete's progress. The boy was gone, speeding away on that wretched hover-skateboard he'd invented while he should have been memorising the pronouncements of Rassilon. He was out of sight before the chimes stopped echoing, but at least he'd completed his 150 lines first.
Wait... what was that last line? "I will not get caught when I hack the Panatropic Net". Borusa's brow furrowed, he harrumphed, but his detachment exercises prevented a more embarrassing display of emotion. He thought about it though.