Adric Shrugged A TTR Fiction ------------------------------------ "Hey, Dead Boy!" the Sixth Doctor's voice bellowed, trying to get the bartending lad's attention. Adric inwardly winced at the nickname, but turned toward 6Doc anyway as the latter swaggered to the bar. "Another pint!" demanded the rotund timelord, slamming his glass jovially on the counter. Adric sighed, and wordlessly took the Doctor's proffered tankard. He turned away from the timelord, took two steps, then stopped once more as a thought struck him. Abruptly he turned back around and examined the larger one over critically, considering. Then a slightly rebellious smirk overtook one side of his mouth, and he held out his palm. "Um, your keys, Doctor?" 6Doc looked at him, confused. "My what?" "Your TARDIS keys." he responded, firmly. "I can't let you have any more until you've handed them over. You know the rules." 6Doc looked indignant. "But... I am NOT drunk." Adric gave 6Doc a matter-of-fact, blank expression. "Perhaps, but you understand we're not suppose to take that risk anymore. Remember that incident with the DeLorean? The last thing we need around here is another lawsuit..." "Oh, just hand them over." 3Doc said from behind the other Doctor. That timelord placed his wine glass on the counter, which Adric filled from a bottle of sherry tucked strategically underneath. "It's his judgement call, and if he thinks you've had too much then it's his right to call you on it." "Too much? Just one pint is too much?" Adric's face was blank, but his hand remained open and insistent. "Oh, all right." 6Doc finally grumbled, then handed the lad the chain and key from a pocket even more of an eyesore than the young man's outfit. Adric glanced at it to make certain it was the correct instrument, placed it on the shelf behind the bar, and departed to draw him another pint. "He's starting to act insolent again. Insolent and impudent." 6Doc gnarled, then continued in a sarcastic tone. "The next thing you know he'll be reading Ayn Rand..." "You mean, like that?" The Third Doctor pointed to a dog-eared paperback on the shelf behind the counter. 6Doc stared at it for a moment, blinking his eyes in complete surprise, as if a bluff had been unexpectedly called. Then he shook his head. "Oh. Wonderful. Just what we need around here. Another barman with an attitude problem. Whatever it was that was on their minds when they gave him this job..." "Well actually," 3Doc commented drily, "as I recall we're the ones that gave it to him, and at the time didn't give him much of an option." He took a sip from his sherry. "Besides, he's not doing all that badly. All things considered, that is." "That doesn't excuse impudence." "Yes, well... You might try calling him something other than 'Dead Boy' for a change, and then see how well he gets along." And with that, the Third Doctor stepped away and returned to the bridge game he had just taken a break from, leaving the Sixth Doctor staring at the counter with a silent, eyebrows-furrowed countenance. --DBK 6 June 2001