TEA BREAK by Margaret Price © 2001
TEA BREAK
"More tea, d'you think?"
"That would be lovely. Thank-you."
The approaching waitress groaned inwardly upon hearing this exchange. The shop's owner had told her that this strange pair had been sitting on the shop's veranda when he arrived that morning. Now it was nearly closing time and they seemed nowhere near ready to leave. She put on her best smile as the gentlemen looked in her direction. Old friends. That's what the shop owner had concluded. They probably hadn't seen each other in years and were catching up on old times. "Can I get you gentlemen anything else?" she asked politely.
The man nearest her smiled warmly. He looked older than his companion, his hairline receding slightly, gray hairs mixed in here and there. He was dressed in a beige linen suit, and worn wing-tip shoes on his feet, which he had perched on a chair, his straw hat hanging from the toe of one of them. Beside him on the table was a black umbrella with a curious red handle. He glanced over to his companion, nodded, and then turned back. "We'll have another round, if you don't mind," he said politely. "And I'd like some more of those wonderful biscuits."
"Doctor, you're going to get fat if you keep eating those," the other man remarked playfully. He then looked up at the waitress. "I would like some more of your excellent sandwiches, please. That last tray was—" He paused, exchanging a knowing look with the Doctor. "—to die for."
The waitress smiled with effort, a little unnerved by this man's penetrating stare. He was so different from his friend. Dark. Not just in appearance, although that was strange enough. Black hair slicked back away from his face, a sinister looking beard cut neatly to a point, his clothes of black velvet. If he wanted to look like the devil himself, he was succeeding. Pulling herself together, the waitress nodded and returned inside.
"I must say this has been an enjoyable day. Quite relaxing," the Doctor remarked, settling further into his chair. The sun was now going down, the sky ablaze with color.
"I agree," the Master replied. "Why didn't we think of this years ago?"
"I've no idea. Perhaps we're just getting older…"
"And wiser?"
"I hope so. Anyway, after a thousand years, I don't think the cosmos will begrudge us a tea break."
The Master laughed wholeheartedly at this. "Yes. One does grow tired of scheming all the time. There's so much work involved. So many details to see to."
"Saving the universe on a weekly bases isn't a walk in the park, either," the Doctor retorted.
The waitress returned with their order, setting everything out on the table before them. "We'll be closing in a hour, gentlemen," she informed before turning to leave.
"So little time," the Doctor sighed when they were on their own again.
The Master followed his gaze. "There's a storm coming," he remarked ominously, pointing in the direction of a storm front boiling on the horizon.
"Yes. Isn't there always?"
They fell silent, watching the approaching storm. The waitress came and collected the tray. The bill was paid. The shop closed. The lights inside the building were turned off. Darkness gathered around them. The Time Lords continued in their silence until the rumble of distant thunder met their ears.
"Time to go, I suppose?" the Doctor observed.
"Yes, I suppose it is," the Master sighed. "Just when I was beginning to enjoy myself."
"So, where are you off to? Or is it a surprise?"
The Master leaned back in his chair, putting his fingertips together. "I thought I might continue this relaxing little break. Perhaps I'll buzz Skaro in my TARDIS. That should annoy the Daleks, don't you think?" He laughed at the thought of the panic this would produce in the Dalek capital.
So did the Doctor. "It takes very little to annoy the Daleks."
"And you, my dear Doctor, where are you off to next? Or is that top secret?"
"Oh, nowhere special. I've been reconfiguring the console room over the last month or so. That needs finishing." Pausing, he added, "I think you'd like it. Very dark. Very gothic."
The Master raised his eyebrows. "Have you been in one of your reflective moods?"
Looking back at the approaching storm the Doctor gave a small smile. "We all need to look back sometimes. If we don't, we can never move forward." Putting on his hat, he suddenly produced two cups from his jacket, pouring brandy from a flask. Rising to his feet, he held out his cup in a toast. "To the future?"
The Master eyed the cup before him suspiciously before standing, returning the salute. "To the future. And may the best man win."
The Doctor smiled broadly. "I always do."