Chapter 13

A/n yall i-I died with this scene and watching a video of it over and over i just cant i might die from suppressing my laughter in study hall (ginger beer was rhyming slang for queer in the 1920s and the waiter guy was going out with that other guy omg i cant-)

"Your drinks, ladies, Doctor." the butler carried the tray with caution as he entered the room.

"Very good Grieves." They took their drinks.

"What about the science stuff, what'd you find?" Donna mentioned.

"Mh." the Doctor pulled the vial out of his pocket. "Vespiform sting. Vespiforms've got hives in the Sylfrax galaxy." He tilted the vial and the golden goo moved like honey.

"Again, you talk like Edward Lear." Agatha Christie remarked.

"You get used to it." Greyn reassured her.

"But for some reason this one's behaving like a character in one of your books." the Doctor took a sip of his drink.

"Come on Agatha, what would Miss Marple do? She'd have overheard something vital by now because the murderer thinks she's just a harmless old lady." Donna shook her head.

"That hasn't come out yet, either." Greyn muttered.

"Clever idea! Miss Marple… who writes those?"

"Um… Copyright Donna Noble, add it to the list."

"Donna…"

"Okay we could split the copyright."

"No…" the Doctor murmured. "Something's inhibiting my enzymes. I've been poisoned." he violently jerked forward, and everyone rushed to his side.

"What do we do? What do we do?!" Donna shouted.

Agatha sniffed his drink. "Bitter almonds. It's cyanide, sparkling cyanide." He jumped from his chair and leaped to the door. He burst through the kitchen door.

"Ginger beer!"

"I beg your pardon?" the waiter questioned.

"I need ginger beer!"

"Not slang ginger beer, actual ginger beer. I think. 47% chance." Greyn clarified to the waiter.

"The gentleman's gone mad!" the cook exclaimed.

"I'm an expert in poisons, Doctor, there's no cure, it's fatal!" Agatha worried as he drank from a bottle of ginger beer.

"Not for me, IcanstimulatetheinhibitedenzymesintorversalPROTIEN! I need protein!"

Donna unscrewed a bottle of walnuts and handed it to him. "Walnuts!"

"Brilliant!" He gulped a mouthful and started to shake his hand.

"I can't understand you, how many words?" he held up a finger. "One, one word!"

"Shake milk shake milk milk? no, not milk. Um… Shake shake shake. Cocktail shaker? Wha' do you want a Harvey Wallbanger?"

"HARVEY WALLBANGER?"

"WELL I DON'T KNOW!"
"HOW IS HARVEY WALLBANGER ONE WORD?"

"Is it pepper?" Greyn questioned.

"No! Salt, I was miming salt, I need salt, something salty"

Donna reached to the counter. "What bout this?"

"What is it?"
"SALT!"
"That's too salty."

"Oh, that's TOO SALTY."

"What about this?" Agatha handed him a jar.

"What's that?" Donna asked as he chugged it.

"Anchovies."

"What is it, what else?" Donna continued. He mimed an explosion.

"It's a song! Mammy! Oh, I don't know Camptown Races?" Donna shouted.

"Camptown Races?"

"Well alright then, Towering Inferno!"
"It's a shock, look, shock I need a shock!" Greyn punched him in the face. He reeled backwards, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"Detox. Oh." he rubbed the side of his face. "Where in hell did you learn to punch like that?"

"Spoilers."

Agatha Christie gaped at him. "Doctor. You are impossible. Who are you?"