The poll for whether I bring Florence back to life or not is up so have a go at that if you want before the fic ends.
He just stares at her. The Mistress huffs, lowering her arms and shrugging a little. She inspects her nails when he doesn't respond.
"Oh! You didn't know, did you? " The Mistress tilts her gaze up to him, "It's lucky one of us remembers these things." She grins at the Doctor, stepping forward and spreading her arms out towards him, "Happy birthday…" She frowns again when he makes no move to accept her present (although that would ruin her plan)
"Mister President." The Time Lady sings the last words, gently taking his wrist in her own and clasping the control bracelet around it. She activates it and steps back again, curtsying, head bowed.
"Doctor." The Cybermen speak in unison. The Doctor looks around at them, his face trying to decide which emotion to show. She lets her expression and arms drop when he still doesn't reply. The Mistress slouches then straightens again.
"Tiny bit pleased? Oh, go on, crack a smile. I want to see if your eyebrows drop off." She vaguely indicates the caterpillars above his eyes, arms swinging idly. He stares at her in disgust and confusion.
"All of this. All of it, just to give me an army?" His eyebrows raise and she scoffs.
"Well, I don't need one, do I? Armies are for people who think they're right." Her voice pitches up and the Mistress grins nastily, "And nobody thinks they're righter than you." The Time Lady continues smirking. He begins to try and remove it and she clamps her palms around his wrist, halting his efforts.
"Give a good man firepower, and he'll never run out of people to kill." He walks backwards and she moves with him.
"I don't want an army!" He rips his arm from her as he shouts.
"Well, that's the trouble! Yes, you do!" She screams back at him, eyes wide. The Time Lady straightens completely, going on tiptoes and throwing her arms out in frustration. She forces herself down again. Both hands raise to point at him, "You've always wanted one!" She steps back onto the height of another burial mound.
"All those people suffering in the Dalek camps?" She can almost see them, gestures out towards all the slaves. They stand around them now, faces grimy and clothes tattered. Their eyes are dead. She doesn't move her eyes from his face, afraid of meeting their death-defying stares. Her arm drops again. His eyes by contrast are wary. "Now you can save them. All those bad guys winning all the wars? Go and get the good guys back." She flings her thumb back carelessly.
"Nobody can have that power." His voice is grave as he meets her gaze. She stands properly, the Dalek's slaves having disappeared.
"You will, because you don't have a choice." The Mistress glares at her friend. She knows it would ruin her whole plan but she just wishes he would stop being so stubborn, stand still for once. "There's only one way you can stop these clouds from opening up and killing all your little pets down here." She raises a finger to signify the singularity of his options, stretching out her arms and turning around again. The Mistress waves off the significance of his pets. She draws her arms in and spins again to look him in the eyes.
"Conquer the universe, Mister President." He can't keep their gaze but in the seconds between them she sees sorrow and guilt. Her hair swings in front of her face but she barely notices, certainly doesn't care. She lets one knee drop to the floor despite this body's weakening joints. Both hands rest on her left knee and she bows her head to her best friend.
"Show a bad girl how it's done."
