Doctor Who | Tight Spots

[eponymous_rose]

Title: Tight Spots
Author: eponymous_rose
Word Count: 500
Rating: G
Characters: Romana, Fourth Doctor
Author's Note: Didn't finish the Master-fic on time, and am utterly exhausted. Doctor/Romana banter is pretty much my fallback, as it has a worrying tendency to write itself!



"We're in something of a tight spot, then," said Romana.

The Doctor shrugged. "Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Romana rolled her eyes. "No, I didn't think you would, so I took the liberty of saying it myself." She shook her manacled hands for emphasis.

"Well," said the Doctor, "I suppose it could possibly be construed that, in some definitions of the term, we are in the sort of spot that might be considered a bit-"

"Tight?"

"Precarious." The Doctor rattled his own chains. "Precarious, certainly, but then we've had worse accommodations, haven't we?"

"None spring readily to mind."

He opened his mouth, thought a moment, and closed it again. "That's the trouble with you, Romana," he said finally. "No imagination."

"Oh," she said. "I'd often wondered."

"But do you know-" The Doctor was squinting up at his manacles with renewed interest. "I think I'm about to do something terribly clever."

"Terribly clever," repeated Romana, deadpan.

"Kind of you to say," said the Doctor, and with a twist of his wrist, he jerked the chain free from the crumbling ceiling. "Aha! What do you say to that, then?"

"Oh, very impressive," said Romana. "Brute force does have its moments."

"Brute force," the Doctor scoffed, digging through his pockets for the sonic screwdriver. "Brute force! I'll have you know I was setting up some rather complex vibrations while the guard was in here threatening us with slow and unpleasant exsanguination!"

"No, you weren't. You were, in a rather roundabout sort of way, casting aspersions on his parentage and demonstrating precisely the sort of transference one would expect from a borderline persona-"

"Yes, well," said the Doctor quickly. "I'm rather good at multitasking. There, that's done it."

Romana rubbed her wrists. "Well, let's not wait around to get recaptured." She paused, and winced. "Again."

"Well, how was I to know the first door on the left led to the guards' headquarters?" The Doctor opened the door, peered out, then beckoned for her to follow. "The first door on the left is always the way out. Well, almost always."

"Perhaps I'll lead the way this time," suggested Romana.

"Nonsense," said the Doctor, and he pointed to the door on their right. "I know where I'm going."

"Well," said Romana, "if you do, that's a little worrying."

He paused, glanced back at her. "How so?"

"I hadn't had you pegged as suicidal, though it does add a whole new dimension to your psychological makeup. That door leads to the prison captain's quarters."

The Doctor stared at the door. "Oh," he said. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

"Quite sure," he muttered. "Well, that's probably good enough, then. And which direction would you go?"

Romana shrugged. "There's a window back in the cell - unbarred, probably because they assume the manacles will be enough to hold us. We could slip out there."

He was silent for a long moment, then stormed past her back into the cell. "A tight spot," he muttered. "Hah!"

Hiding a smile, she followed.