Can or Cant ('Accent' entry)
Oct. 10th, 2014 08:28 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Title: Can or Cant
Rating: PG
Genre: General/Humour
Word Count: 379
Pairings or Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Summary: The Doctor, Rose, macaroons and some questionable accents.
“-so I walk up to him, tap him on the shoulder, and say, ‘Mr. Arthur Pendragon’-”
A loud beeping interrupted them. The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver to consult it. A manic grin descended on his face.
“The trap’s sprung. Come on!”
Eliciting a matching manic grin from Rose, he grabbed her hand and they sprinted down several corridors.
When the metal door burst open, they were greeted by the sight of two people, a man and a woman, both frozen in the act of reaching for a platter of macaroons.
“Aha!” Rose cried. But the Doctor was frowning.
“I didn’t expect there to be two of you.”
Rose shrugged. “So they’re both in it. Collaborating.”
“Collaboratin’ in what exactly?” The woman’s brogue could have sawed a tree in half.
Rose narrowed her eyes at her. “Don’t act like you don’t know. You’re wanted by the Stovian authorities.”
“Yeah,” the Doctor interjected finally. “One person.”
Both of them turned to the two people again. “So one’s a human…” Rose began slowly. “The other’s a murdering alien thief,” the Doctor finished.
“Oi!” The woman barked. “Who’re you callin’ an alien? This country’s mine as much as it’s yours. And I’m no thief or murderer either.”
“So why are you here, then?”
“I saw the sweets, didn’t I?”
Rose and the Doctor exchanged glances. He scratched his head. Then he turned to the so-far silent man. “And what have you got to say for yourself?”
The man blinked and then seemed to realise he was being addressed. “Plees. I do not undair-stand. I saw zees macaronz, yes, and I wanted a few. Zat is all.”
The very next moment, the Doctor turned to the woman and sonicked her. She covered her ears with a scream and collapsed in a dead faint. Even as Rose watched, astonished, her skin started to turn a splotchy red.
“You can go,” the Doctor said, pocketing his screwdriver. “Did you eat any of the macaroons?”
“N-non.”
“Good. Then you won’t die. Run along, now.”
With a nervous squeak the man dashed away.
Rose was still staring. “How’d you know it was her?”
The Doctor was affixing handcuffs to the unconscious alien woman. “Many planets may have a North,” he said, and then grimaced, “but only Earth has a France.”
*
A/N: I don't have anything against either of the accents I've mentioned here. If a brogue is what I think it is, then I think it's gorgeous. I also love the French language and consequently the accent. This fic is a tongue-in-cheek jab, not at the accents, but at the Doctor himself(like his hilarious statement in The Unquiet Dead - "In Cardiff!!").
Rating: PG
Genre: General/Humour
Word Count: 379
Pairings or Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Summary: The Doctor, Rose, macaroons and some questionable accents.
“-so I walk up to him, tap him on the shoulder, and say, ‘Mr. Arthur Pendragon’-”
A loud beeping interrupted them. The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver to consult it. A manic grin descended on his face.
“The trap’s sprung. Come on!”
Eliciting a matching manic grin from Rose, he grabbed her hand and they sprinted down several corridors.
When the metal door burst open, they were greeted by the sight of two people, a man and a woman, both frozen in the act of reaching for a platter of macaroons.
“Aha!” Rose cried. But the Doctor was frowning.
“I didn’t expect there to be two of you.”
Rose shrugged. “So they’re both in it. Collaborating.”
“Collaboratin’ in what exactly?” The woman’s brogue could have sawed a tree in half.
Rose narrowed her eyes at her. “Don’t act like you don’t know. You’re wanted by the Stovian authorities.”
“Yeah,” the Doctor interjected finally. “One person.”
Both of them turned to the two people again. “So one’s a human…” Rose began slowly. “The other’s a murdering alien thief,” the Doctor finished.
“Oi!” The woman barked. “Who’re you callin’ an alien? This country’s mine as much as it’s yours. And I’m no thief or murderer either.”
“So why are you here, then?”
“I saw the sweets, didn’t I?”
Rose and the Doctor exchanged glances. He scratched his head. Then he turned to the so-far silent man. “And what have you got to say for yourself?”
The man blinked and then seemed to realise he was being addressed. “Plees. I do not undair-stand. I saw zees macaronz, yes, and I wanted a few. Zat is all.”
The very next moment, the Doctor turned to the woman and sonicked her. She covered her ears with a scream and collapsed in a dead faint. Even as Rose watched, astonished, her skin started to turn a splotchy red.
“You can go,” the Doctor said, pocketing his screwdriver. “Did you eat any of the macaroons?”
“N-non.”
“Good. Then you won’t die. Run along, now.”
With a nervous squeak the man dashed away.
Rose was still staring. “How’d you know it was her?”
The Doctor was affixing handcuffs to the unconscious alien woman. “Many planets may have a North,” he said, and then grimaced, “but only Earth has a France.”
*
A/N: I don't have anything against either of the accents I've mentioned here. If a brogue is what I think it is, then I think it's gorgeous. I also love the French language and consequently the accent. This fic is a tongue-in-cheek jab, not at the accents, but at the Doctor himself(like his hilarious statement in The Unquiet Dead - "In Cardiff!!").
(no subject)
Date: 2014-10-10 05:54 pm (UTC)*HUGS*
(no subject)
Date: 2014-10-11 05:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-10-13 06:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-10-27 06:35 pm (UTC)Thanks so much again!! *hugs*