Amon didn't wait for the barrier of flames to die down, aiming despite the smoke and distortion from the heat. Before he could fire, a hand came down over his wrist and he found it held in an iron grip. He turned to the stranger they'd reluctantly accepted as an ally, silently demanding explanation.
"Guns are never a solution."
"You don't understand," Amon growled. "Left to its own devices, a witch will—"
"Will what?" the stranger replied mildly. This man, this so-called Doctor, had seemed easy to dismiss, with his ridiculous velvet coat and unsettling manner. But even in the face of all they'd seen his expression was unruffled, his voice calm, and his grasp remained firm.
"A witch will go insane? I beg to differ. I've seen many of what you would call witches and while there is, perhaps, a greater incidence of madness within the population, it is by no means one hundred percent."
"Perhaps not, but—"
"But nothing! You'd act as judge and executioner without so much as evidence of wrongdoing." The Doctor's eyes turned cold and Amon could see his gaze shift slightly and focus over his shoulder to where Robin stood when he spoke again, it was in a much quieter tone, pitched only so Amon could hear.
"How terribly hypocritical of you."
A/N: Crossover with Doctor Who, the eighth Doctor.