Miranda's stomach hit her shoes. She stepped back from the hedge and partially dug grave, her eyes fixed on the weirdo's shovel. She wanted to check if there was anything lying around that she could use as a weapon if this lunatic suddenly decided to finish the job, but she didn't want to risk looking away from him and giving him an opening. So she just stood there and quietly began to sweat. "What do you mean, it's mine?" she asked warily.
"You're really not all that bright, are you?" the weirdo commented.
Before Miranda could figure out how to respond, a boisterous voice cut across the yard: "Ah! Here you are! I was starting to think you'd been picked up alrea—oh, no! Not again!" The pudgy man in the multicoloured jacket came strolling in from Miranda's peripheral vision and stopped between her and the weirdo, staring at the weirdo's handiwork with hands on his hips. "Haven't you got anything better to do? And where did you find a shovel?" he groused at the weirdo, highly agitated.
The weirdo drew himself up defensively. "She would have found out eventually."
"Excuse me, why is there a cemetery in your backyard?" Miranda tried to interject.
"Did you lose your manners along with your senses? That's hardly an excuse for scaring her to death! She's our guest!" the colourful jacket exclaimed and kicked at the disturbed grass. "And you've damaged the grounds again. Now those bloody androids will be all over the yard--!"
"How dare you speak that way to the Lord High President of Gallifrey!" the weirdo bellowed, gripping his shovel as if it were a regal sceptre.
"He was going to kill me!" Miranda directed her complaint at the colourful jacket, hoping to get his attention.
"Kill you? That's not like me at all. I was simply going to bury you," the weirdo said innocently.
Miranda stared at him in wordless, confused shock. She turned to the colourful jacket, hoping for some kind of explanation.
"You're not going to do anything except fill that hole back in before the damage alarm sounds off," the colourful jacket pronounced, wagging a finger at the weirdo. He put an arm around Miranda and started leading her back towards the manor. "Let's go in before it gets dark and I'll make a fresh pot of tea."
Miranda collected herself and planted her feet. Why did everyone think they could keep pacifying her so easily? "A simple question first: why are there dead people buried in the backyard?"
The colourful jacket stopped, looking somewhat surprised. "What? There's no one buried back here! Those are memorials."
Miranda blinked, processing. "But that guy--?"
"Sorry about him, he always acts up when newcomers arrive," the weirdo waved dismissively. "He's a bit of a nutter by now, I'm afraid."
"'Eccentric,' if you please," the weirdo chimed in behind Miranda.
"You've been a few Jelly Babies short of eccentric since before I got here," the colourful one derided.
"Really? I must remember to requisition another bag from the Castellan the next time I see him. Though they do get caught in my feathers something awful, naughty little sweets."
"You do that."
"So no one's died?" Miranda asked before the conversation could wander off again.
"Yes," the weirdo said. "No," the colourful one said at the same time.
"Yes and no," the weirdo added.
Miranda covered her face with a hand, exasperated almost beyond caring by this point. "Which is it?" she snapped.
"Sad to say, none of us knows definitively. The last time any of them were here with us, they were certainly alive; then one by one, Goran took them," the colourful one explained regretfully. "What became of them after that…" he shrugged with a distressing degree of hopelessness. He glanced at Miranda and smiled sadly. "I trust they're alright somewhere. Still, I suppose almost anything is better than sitting around here with nothing to do but wither away."
------------------------------------------
The black android walked into sight and Goran gave the clipboard to it. The android took it, walked across the room and sat down at a computer and began typing.
"That's one of things I admire about you, Doctor. If I let you talk long enough, you eventually find the answers to your questions on your own. Wish I could do that. By the way, which regeneration are you?"
The Doctor took a moment to regroup. A tougher nut to crack than he'd expected, this Goran. "Well, I'll tell you something—"
Suddenly something began beeping. Goran jumped, a hand flying to his chest. "Oh!" He recovered himself and flew to a bank of monitors. The Doctor heard him bluster a huge sigh. "You again!" he said to the screen.
"What is it?" the Doctor asked.
"Nothing, nothing, just a damage alarm."
"Damage alarm?"
Goran shook his fuzzy head quickly. "Four's up to his old tricks again. Joy. You know my fur was green when I first came here?" he revealed, suddenly contemplative. "Each one of these grey hairs is as much your fault as anything else. I wish you'd just accept the fact that there's no escape and put up with this purgatory we've been dumped in."
The Doctor pulled his brows together, confused.
Goran appeared to shiver, then turned back to the Doctor. "I guess we might as well stop here for now anyway." Goran walked over to a bank of machinery next to the Doctor's tube and flipped a switch. The air vent inside the tube rumbled to life. He tabbed another control and the beeping of the damage alarm silenced.
The Doctor had a good idea what was coming and engaged his respiratory bypass. "Pity, I was just starting to get settled in."
"Don't worry about that, you'll have plenty of time to get used to how things work around here," Goran answered.
The Doctor was disturbed to feel a familiar tingling sensation in his throat and limbs. How was that possible? He shook himself, but already his mind was drifting away in a fog and his body was starting to go leaden. "How--?" he slurred quizzically.
Goran eyed him a moment and then chuckled. "I guess you're not so changed after all! Maybe I should have warned you; the anaesthesia is absorbed directly through your skin, so your respiratory bypass won't do anything. Sweet dreams, Doctor."