Bernice had gone for some air, and a shower. Being separate for a short while was probably best as they let their emotions cool down or ask for friendly advice to better understand them. One thing she agreed to before they parted was drawing up a new contract and becoming head of archaeology again- a position he always filled in for himself, keeping the seat warm, so to speak. That would be something interesting to add to the pile for today's workload. At least he had an early start.

But there was no rest for the wicked, apparently. Because Braxiatel's holocorder activated itself and swiped over to the channel again. Benny and him had apparently been mentioned. Looking through the various sections, he couldn't find where the reference was. He groaned. What was he going to do? Really?

A welcome distraction though, Brax wasn't quite ready for the Collection itself to know. There were thousands of people on it- many of which wouldn't understand, or would even be opposed due to circumstances involving himself and Bernice a long time ago, and her again showing up out of nowhere having not aged a day.

"Would anyone here possibly know a thing about romance? The current situation is a bit sticky. I've... never been on an actual date with no ulterior motives. Could I potentially manage not to sound like an inexperienced idiot in front of her?"

A now-familiar face, the Redjay chimed in. 'Can you?'

'Impossible. Just accept it,' another stranger added.

"I mean, I've been on dates and slept with people, but always did it as a bargaining chip to get something. Usually information," he put the most casually that could be done, an admission that really shouldn't have seemed that easy.

'Ha! Very romantic. Separate cheques? No, morally I should pay for it.' Looking up, he seemed to be a Jack. Not his Jack, but a Jack nonetheless. Was charming and blunt to the point of rudeness just part of the package with that name?

Unamused, Braxiatel cracked his knuckles. Would this go anywhere useful at all? But there was something he rarely said because it barely ever needed to be brought up. "Strictly speaking, in human terms I'm... somewhere on the ace spectrum. I don't typically like people, and it's not usually a priority worth bothering about."

'Well, you've got me on that one. Still. Wooing. That's what you want to do.'

"I have once daydreamed about sweeping a certain lady president off her feet and riding into the sunset on a white horse..." he mused, thinking back to the one other person he'd previously loved.

'Cliché, but we're going in the right direction. At the very least add some derring-do and adrenaline. Fight for her love and win, then spoil her rotten at the very end.'

Braxiatel cringed at the very thought. He did faintly remember fighting for Bernice's love in a sense. Once, in his dreams that let slip memories of a different life. But he was also fighting her. ...And killing an awful lot of people. That part was an important thing to be worried about too. The closest thing now would be duking it out with Jason, but not only would her ex-husband's double not compete because of a little interference years ago, but Benny would be furious. "Uh- no... That would have been ideal, but didn't exactly work out. -You think Benny would like a horse?"

'Maybe a horse ride?' the Redjay suggested.

'You mean Bernice Summerfield? I mean, she's an archaeologist- right? A horse might work. Maybe a dinosaur.'

Well, Braxiatel had let that part slip already. But it wasn't a terrible idea. If the Collection's grounds weren't meant to be a precarious balance of natural and tamed, perhaps. Maybe a small one that would safely fit within the biology building. "...I could get a dinosaur."

One of the previous strangers had a rather wilder suggestion. 'Dig up the holy grail, that ought to do it. Or raid King Tut's tomb with her.'

The Redjay seemed particularly sarcastic today, even more than last time. 'Nothing says romance like tomb-robbing. And yes, the irony of commenting against thieving is not lost on me.'

One face and name he recognized from the art world, and really wished he didn't- was among Bernice's former students... and the Doctor's wife. One of them, at any rate. 'That's the best first date!'

"Unfortunately, Bernice is rather more... picky- about ethics in obtaining items of historical value than I am." Braxiatel sighed, and was about to turn it off before a private ping hit. Raising an eyebrow, it was from none other than the Redjay herself. Well, she was on his radar now. And making the first step was a bold move, he'd give that credit. He was going to need to analyze her threat level to himself and to the Collection anyway, so he decided to humour this thief.

'Braxiatel.' it paused. 'I have a business proposal.'

"Yes?" He rolled his eyes. Was there really anything she could offer him?

'You have a Collection that cannot possibly have everything in it yet. I have a certain set of skills, and an interest in making sure you're not pick-pocketing orphans. Sure if you ask the Coordinator, he can give you some, uh- references.'

A high-and-mighty renegade. He should've guessed. "I assure you, it's not even close to worth my time to pick-pocket orphans. And I already employ a perfectly suitable thief, if that's what you mean. What's so much more special about your skills?"

'More than a millennium's experience, a TARDIS, and having competition on your side. That, and a few Rassilonian era artefacts I could possibly be convinced to part with.' Why was this woman already obsessed with getting work from him? It would make things easier to put her on a leash, but at the same time a potential liability. 'C'mon, though. Give me a test run. Way I see it, your usual thief's going to be... busy.'

"...I'm quite sure I don't know what that means."

'Well, it's an educated guess. But I assume you mean Professor Summerfield. I could be in completely the wrong vortisaur paddock, though.'

This late he did use a different person to obtain things for him, but yes, she was indeed walking around in the wrong vortisaur paddock. "No... I was referring to Lady Christina De Souza. Bernice is not a thief."

'Well, by some definitions, an archaeologist is a thief. But, uh, my mistake. Anyway, her. Probably not a Time Lord. Not as good as me.'

And now she was insulting a different friend. What a diplomatic start. "Do watch your tongue, Christina is a close personal friend of mine and one of the most renowned thieves this side of the universe. Unless you're really the Cat's Paw- and I find that highly unlikely, I don't see how you could so easily compare."

'Something we have in common. The bit in the middle, anyway. Not exactly known for watching my tongue, though,' as if that wasn't obvious enough.

He rolled his eyes, sifting through forms on his desk and only glancing at the holocorder when something new came through. "I will keep that in mind."

'But I think you'd enjoy a little verbal sparring, anyway.'

Well, that couldn't have been more wrong. "That is something I already have in spades with her and Benny around. Lovely people who're actually good at it."

'Think about it, though. I want to know you're on the level. I have a TARDIS. I have experience. I worked for Torchwood, and not every artefact in their storage is something they can safely archive. I'd like to save them from destruction.'

Well, a few priceless or dangerous artefacts was a slightly tempting offer- but paying for a job only seemed more suspicious. Perhaps getting rid of might indeed be the easier option."Why is it any of your business if I'm on the level or not? Are you a cop or some sort of universally recognized authority? I will happily purchase the artefacts you cannot archive, but I am not required to subject myself to judgement."

'I'm coming off wrong-footed here. Let me try again- again.'

Well, if she wanted a chance of much of anything- she'd need to come on his turf. A place where no matter the level of danger this woman might actually present- he had the advantage. So, he did the thing most men in their private collections wouldn't even dream of. He gave her the coordinates to his office and the front door.

"Try then. You have one more shot. In-person. I'll give you five minutes to reach my office from outside, with mansion security measures active. I'll be watching the cameras. If you've cased it, make use of that knowledge."

The poor woman would probably get fried, without a plasti-disc on her person turning the larger defence items off. Perhaps die, perhaps regenerate and either get captured or escape having learned her lesson. Or run when she realized there was no safe way in. It might make for mild entertainment, get this nuisance out of the way. Or, while the chances were slim- a valuable ally and piece in the greater game, though he wouldn't lead her to believe that if it happened.

'Fine. I'll do it.'

Switching over to the security logs, a TARDIS materialization was instantly picked up on as movement by the cameras- but it wouldn't have appeared so to the naked eye. It just sort of looked like an out of place tree. Nothing on the equipment actually meant to track that sort of thing showed up, and it wasn't particularly loud either.

Good pilot, at least.

She casually went through one of the windows, after appearing to hack the lock. Braxiatel raised an eyebrow. Calling up Joseph, he'd need to make a note of that particular vulnerability. As would he to another one, then another, then another- as her reflexes and know-how were put on display. Jumping through hoops, one after the other. Dodging lasers, hiding from motion trackers, disabling weapons- the whole nine yards.

The five minutes were almost up, but when he looked at the door, past the lenses of his half-moon reading glasses, she burst in, having set off no alarms. Looking a little singed and tired though, it definitely gave a hint of mild interest. He'd indulge her. After all that work, why not?

But she was no real threat. Even if she could just barely make it to his office, it definitely meant she couldn't take anything of value. He took a sip of his scotch and gestured for the woman to sit across from his desk.

Panting, really hoping she'd proved herself this time- after a whole life of having to do just that and always failing to live up to expectations, the Redjay- real name Roda, spoke. "I can tell you don't think much of me. Which is," she huffed. "-fair enough. I don't think a lot of people have, over the years. That, and my foot is so far in my mouth I may as well bite it off. I'm a criminal and a thief and I never tried to make friends."

She glanced over to the fancy bottle of scotch resting on his desk, while he thumbed through papers and floppy screens in utter silence, only making her more anxious. She was probably going to talk his head off and then get thrown out with all the security flaws updated, but she wanted this. Or Roda thought she did. "Rassilon, I could do with some of that scotch. I'm not asking you to like me. And I'm not trying to judge you. Just that staying alive meant assuming everything's a threat. And apparently in my old age, starting to think that 'everyone's out to get you so you shouldn't conspire with anyone' is a very tiring approach, but old habits die hard."

Braxiatel still didn't say a word. Every little noise in the office was amplified by his quiet, and occasionally by the lightning in his eyes when he spared a glance, always cold and calculating. Roda caught him smirking though, just barely. "...You're just enjoying watching me squirm, aren't you?"

He chuckled softly. "Yes, I am." Taunting yet again, he poured himself some more scotch.

She sighed, leant back, and let out a laugh. More of a self-deprecating cackle, really. "Alright-"

Finally, Braxiatel said a sentence she could hear that was longer than three syllables, shuffling the papers and floppy screens, then placing them down. He leaned close to her with a shallow mask of an expression, a look completely and utterly fake in a way that made Roda's hair stand on end. "But the long and short of it is that I don't trust you. I have no reason to trust you. And I have no real intent on finding a reason to trust you." There was a long, drawn-out pause as he raised a finger in the air. "I am, however, willing to try working with you on a probationary basis, but for anything else... We will just have to wait and see."

Roda swallowed. She was definitely far older than Irving Braxiatel. She was definitely far more experienced than Irving Braxiatel. But even she was intimidated by his mysterious and charming presence- a presence that for some unknown reason was deeply and disturbingly wrong. "...The bluntness is appreciated. And not uncalled for. -But I do think you'll find my expertise on probation more than adequate."

She offered him a hand, not that he seemed particularly invested in what she was saying for that to be particularly meaningful. "I'd suggest we seal it over a drink, but I doubt you're likely to share that. So, shake on giving me a test run?"

Brax nodded. "It's very old and very expensive. I don't share it with just anyone, you know." But he finally shook her hand anyway.

"Got two bottles in your collection, I assume, if you're drinking that one," she winked cheekily. "So... What haven't you got? Or do you just plan to look me up when there's something on the shopping list?"

He waved it off. "Yes, generally I just speak to my contractors when I find something I want, but... perhaps a better test is in order." His tone shifted and his eyes went cold as he took off his reading glasses. Something wicked.

"...Duly noted. Where am I going?"

"Bulmegantu." Suddenly at that, Brax actually seemed rather jubilant. Quite jarring, frankly. And more than a little bit worrying. "There's a lovely landscape painting there that I quite fancy."

But Roda didn't recognize the name. "Bulmegantu? Anything about it?"

Braxiatel seemed eerily content with a surprisingly grim fact. "It's going to be destroyed 16 years and 87 days from now. Best go in just before that. No one will even know it's gone when the planet explodes," he wiggled a finger pointedly.

Despite not being a massive fan of how he spoke of it, Roda nodded along. "...Good trick. Alright. And the planet? Is there an evacuation force to watch for? Not that I'd go in with no plan and a sign reading 'This is a TARDIS' on it."

He didn't laugh, but didn't seem particularly unhappy about it either. "Oh no, there is no evacuation, it's an unexpected extinction event."

"...I see. And would you say that's a fixed point in time...? Hypothetically."

"I would, yes." He shook his head. Time sense and everything, no changing what had been done.

Still a tad unsettled and slightly concerned about what she'd gotten herself into, Roda asked, "...alright. The timeline's not at its best, anyway." The steps of it went through her head and she went into the most professional-sounding mode her brain had. "So, get the painting. That's the test. What's it called?"

He rolled his eyes again, like there was really something she just wasn't understanding. "I'll send you the specifications later. When I'm less dreadfully busy." She had another painfully vague friend. But already Braxiatel somehow seemed significantly worse, in a few respects at least.

She crossed her arms and sighed, blowing a few strands of hair out of her face. "Let me guess. Don't call you, you'll call me?"

He gave a thin, patronizing smirk. "Good girl, you're getting the idea already."

"Pretty certain I'm more than twice your age. But, sounds like a plan. I better go do some digging, then." Roda got her coat so she'd be ready to go- whenever he'd let down the security so she could leave, that is.

He kept teasing, and pouted just a tiny bit. "Does being old make you less of a good girl?"

Was this all condescension, or partly flirting? Didn't he just get a girlfriend? "I don't know. Who's stealing a painting for who?"

He shrugged. "You're the one who asked me for employment."

"Not sure if that makes me a good girl, or you a naughty boy," she commented.

The word 'No' was written all over Braxiatel's features. But it was true. "Those are not mutually exclusive."

That was simply wounding to her. "Touche. One thing, though."

"Oh? What is it now?" Brax seemed to be losing interest, looking back at his holoprints, floppy screens and paper. He really wanted to shoo her, like a mosquito that had been buzzing in his ear. But Roda just kept buzzing. And she felt like he was getting ever closer to smacking her. No matter how charismatic he seemed at one moment, there was always a looming sense of unease. And he could smack her if he really wanted to. She just... knew, somewhere.

"You have to at least share some of that scotch before you get to call me a good girl," she ordered.

She could see him fiddling with one of the screens- evidently clearing her on the security systems in an effort to get rid of her, then waving it off. "Call it a one-off. I'm romantically attached these days, you know."

Well, it was being acknowledged that he wasn't flirting with her. Or if he was, just to assert the slightest bit more control. That already seemed to be something he enjoyed, after all. "Oh, I know, you said. And seriously, give me some credit. It's a good trick, but I can tell when it's turned on." She winked, before turning to the door.

"Yes well... I believe you have a job to research."

Excellent code for 'Go away,' wasn't it?

She nodded, glancing back from the doorway. "Right. Back soon."

The door swung shut before Roda. Joseph would be seeing her out, so Braxiatel went back to focusing on actual work. Bernice's contract renewal first- then a nice, preemptive start on the Redjay's. If she indeed survived a cataclysmic planetary destruction, all while carrying a very conspicuous and large landscape painting, that depending on the shape of her TARDIS, might not so easily fit through the door, he may almost be impressed afterwards. Almost.

Brax casually sipped at his scotch.

He liked to know who to bother with.