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So All of Our Avatars Walk Into a Bar...

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The Doctor had enough of this, and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. It made a bizarre noise as he used it to make the jukebox explode. Sparks flew everywhere, and he pushed Meerfall and Benet out of the vicinity of the explosion. "Explosions aren't the smartest things to stand near," he said.
 
It totally came out of nowhere. The Doctor whipped out his strange looking device and caused the whole jukebox to explode. He was surprisingly fast enough to move both he and Meerfall out of the way.
After the Doctor's remark, Benét just sat there in shock.
"....This bar is far more crazy than I thought." He said as he helped Meerfall and himself to their feet.
 
The Doctor threw his sonic screwdriver into his pocket and started digging for something else.
Obviously the others were quite impressed. (Maybe not, but he sure thought so.) He was quite good at saving people in a quick and efficient manner, and might just have shown off a little.
He nonchalantly started playing with a yo-yo that he found in his transdimensional pocket.
 
When confronted with anger, the Rydrake usually mauled someone, or sliced their head off using his wings; however, he sensed this would be inappropriate in such civilised surroundings, and restricted himself to a hard look.

Civilised? Was blowing up a jukebox civilised? He mused on this for a moment, then asked the Banette about it, adding that he would be delighted to know his name as well.
 
Overhearing the Rydrake's question to Benet, the Doctor remarked, "Of course I'm civilised! But you must remember I'm not human, nor am I from Earth. It's only logical that I have a somewhat different sense of being civilised than you do."
 
"The same goes for me," replied the Rydrake. "I'm neither human, nor native to Earth. I'm from the planet Nessa, in the Nanairo system. I also spend most of my team butchering the forces of darkness, so I suppose I have no right to comment on how civilised people are."
 
"Nessa? Nice place, although I can't say I'd want it to be my home planet. Gallifrey is fine with me." The Doctor paused for a moment. "Did you say butchering? That's not really the nicest way to do things."
 
"It's not like I have a choice." The Rydrake shrugged, which made his wings slice a large chunk from the ceiling. "I am a gigantic six-legged killer ice leopard with razor wings. I'm amazed I've stayed rational for all the time I've been in this bar, really, considering I don't actually possess full sentience."

He paused for a moment, pondering the import of what he had just said, then added:

"And Nessa isn't a nice place at all. It's one massive desert covered in sandstorms and evil mining tycoons."
 
"Yes, like I said, it's a nice place." The Doctor smiled as if he had a plan, as if he was about to talk the Rydrake out of violence. Which was exactly what he intended to do. "Oh, but you're too nice to kill anyone. You refrain from it out of courtesy. Right?"
 
"Um, appealing to my better nature probably won't work," cautioned the Rydrake. "I'm a wild animal. I kill things. At least I only kill the forces of evil. I mean, I eat ice and minerals, so no one gets hurt there."
 
"Well, I tried," the Doctor sighed. "But you know I don't approve of killing unless it's absolutely necessary. You ought to at least try to find a happy medium before you resort to that." Here he was again, acting like the morality police.
 
"Come, don't be depressed!" cried the Rydrake. "Let Zygons be bygones, and all that. I shall find something to cheer you up."

He finished his ice and did a quick circuit of the bar, searching for anything that might restore the Doctor's former good mood; however, he was forced to acknowledge that there was nothing of interest in it, and also that he had no idea what might cheer the Doctor up. Stumped, he was about to give up when he spied a payphone, and hit upon what he thought was a brilliant idea.

The Rydrake took a few coins from the barman's pocket, put them in and dialled the number for Rent-A-Clown.

"Good morning," he said. "I would like to rent a clown, please."

He listened.

"Very well," he agreed at length. "That would be perfect."

His good deed done, he sat down and waited for the clown to arrive.
 
"I thought clowns made humans happy," said the Rydrake helplessly. "Oh dear."

At this point, a clown walked in; fortuitously, he was a normal person, and consequently fled the bar screaming as soon as he had entered it and seen its decidedly unusual clientèle.

"Well, that's settled, at least," the Rydrake said philosophically.

A few moments later, however, the clown came back, with a puzzled look on his face.

"Hang on," he said to the Doctor. "Are you Tom Baker? Can I have your autograph?"
 
"But you have to remember I'm not a human," the Doctor pointed out.

"Of course not!" he said to the clown, "I'm the Doctor. Although if you really want my autograph, you can have it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Pen of Rassilon and the Notepad of Rassilon, signing his name sloppily on one of the Notepad Pages of Rassilon and tore it out.
 
The clown looked nonplussed, and would have argued had he not seen the Rydrake and run out screaming again.

"Oh well," the Rydrake sighed. "At least I tried, I suppose."
 
"You don't need to try and make me feel better, there's nothing wrong in the first place." The Doctor played with the Yoyo of Rassilon while eating the Half-Eaten Apple of Rassilon. Why did he even have that in his pocket, anyways?
 
"Fair enough." The Rydrake yawned cavernously, then noticed the time and sat up quickly. "Oh. Sorry, but it looks like I'm going to have to leave. Jeena said that if I waited this long, Rallen would probably have got himself into enough trouble to necessitate my intervention."

He stood up, made his goodbyes, and forced his way out through the ruined door. Which was just as well, because a little while later, the Cutlerine changed his avatar, making the last few pages of dialogue completely nonsensical.
 
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