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Mist and Silhouette

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DJ was peering through the railing of the balcony. Kneeling, overseeing the hotel lobby without being seen. Or at least that was his intention. Stan was standing beside him.

'What on Earth are you doing?'

DJ briefly glanced up at him, eyes glittering darkly, 'Oh. Look at that. You're taller than me.'

With a childish giggle he flicked aside a stray piece of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

His gaze returned to the floor below. 'Watching.'

A movement in the corner of his visual field. Long auburn hair trailing across a cream coloured wool coat.

'Ooh.' DJ rocked back on his heels. 'Do you see that one?'

'Are they a man or a woman?' Stan wondered.

DJ looked at him sharply.

'I know you don't care.'

The earl raised both eyebrows at him. 'Entirely arbitrary. Irrelevant.'

Stan examined once more the person to whom DJ had affixed his gaze. The tilt of the head. An angular face and thin hooked nose.

'They look like you.'

Don Juan shook his head. 'I don't see it.'

DJ stood up and stretched languorously, his shirt becoming untucked. He observed this with disinterested amusement.

He made his way down the central staircase, long fingers caressing the faux marble railing.

The individual that had caught his eye was seated at the hotel bar, feet tucked underneath the foot rail that ran around the bottom of the stool in a way that denoted wary nervousness. Duly noted.

Don Juan leaned against the bar, 'Scotch. s'il vous plait.'

At the sound of French the stranger looked up from his drink and quickly looked down again.

'Mon dieu,' he muttered softly 'not another one.'

'Mon dieu?' DJ echoed delightedly , 'I don't typically get 'mon dieu' until the...'

The stranger was ignoring him. He actually seemed to be examining his own reflection in the surface of the glass of wine.

'Another one what?'

'You don't know?' the stranger asked hollowly, slowly swirling the wine, disrupting his reflected image.

DJ decided to change tack. He took a breath as though preparing to confess a burden of the heart. 'You are the most divine creature I have ever laid eyes upon.'

This did elicit a smile. 'Aye. I rather imagine that divinity is a quality frequently lacking in your circle of acquaintance... And that your intention is to lay more than eyes.'

This acerbic display of witticism fanned Don Juan's idle desire into something hotter. 'You imagine correctly.'

'Who are you?' It wasn't a question. More like an order.

Don Juan told him his name and that of the earldom he was to inherit.

'September,' he whispered. 'September of '97.'

Don Juan shrugged. 'Could have been. I was twenty-six. Could have happened.'

'No. The Earldom. I created it in September of 1397.'

Oh. Delusional then. Not a problem. DJ bowed, 'My sincerest thanks, your majesty.'

'Not anymore.'


'Just Richard of Bordeaux.'

'Would Richard of Bordeaux care to accompany an Earl-to-be to the fourth floor?'

'You have all to gain, we have nought to lose.'


'What's this?' Don Juan lightly touched the edge of an area of pink and red skin and scar tissue on Richard's lower back, 'It's got stitches in it.'

'A healing wound. Received courtesy of my cousin at the bottom of Gascogne tower. Be careful.'

'I will be.'

'I mean in life. You've got enemies... I sense that there's a net closing around you. Something you've been weaving all your life.'


'After all, we can't all be important to the facilitation of the Doctor's favourite bits of interdimensional superstructure. So I don't imagine you'll have the advantage of time travel. Although- If you're very lucky, and the Doctor is very drunk, you might be able to get him to think he owes you something.'


'I've absolutely no idea. Probably a chicken. You'd have to ask Casanova. Card game. Versailles. Reinette won, of course. Really something else, from what I've heard. I think Giacomo was rather more taken with the king.'

'You're completely mad aren't you?'

'Not completely.'