Oh, don't be so difficult, just tell me a secret.
You want a secret? A big, big, bigbigbigbig one? Simon wins the tenth season of that American talent contest show. I tell you, when it hits the internet, it's going to be rather massive.
My dear Doctor, your flippancy is enjoyable, as always, but you really, really should think to take the situation you're in more seriously.
Seriously? You want me to take this seriously? You have me chained to a wall, practically at your mercy, and you're asking me to tell you a secret like we're back at the Academy or something.
Oh, Doctor, you always did have a knack for missing the big picture. Do you know what the big picture here, is?
Clearly, I don't. Why don't you enlighten me?
This place you are standing in, these walls. This very structure, in fact, is a conduit. A conduit that collects repressed brain waves and uses them for fuel.
And by telling me this, you expect, what? 'Oh, yes, of course, Sir, right away, Sir, why don't I just give you more fuel for this cruel, inhuman plan you've got'? I think not. I'm going to stop you.
So much pride. You've got too much pride, Doctor, do you know that?
Not the most original of observations, honestly.
Your pride will be your undoing. You see, along with this place's ability to store repressed brain waves as fuel, it also heightens them, practically forces them out of your mouth. So, whether or not you like it, Doctor, you're going to start telling me your secrets.
No, I'm not.
Yes, you are.
You are, and no amount of complaining is going to stop you. Your wrists are bound in a number-oriented puzzle-lock, and I have no doubt the effects of this place have already started to affect you. Are you struggling? Don't struggle, Doctor, you'll only have your head explode, and I doubt that will do you any good.
I don't like pears.
I don't like pears. Couldn't bring myself to tell Jackie that, because she'd always bake them into a pie for Rose and me. But I really, really don't like pears. Worst thing to wake up to, in the morning. Not a big fan of rhubarb, either, though I have a strange craving for rhubarb pie.
See? Your secrets, they're just spilling out.
Sheppard's pie, now that's a good dish. You know, for the longest time, I thought it was actually made with a shepherd. Wasn't until my fourth incarnation I got the whole mess sorted out.
Truly embarrassing. Why don't you tell me about your TARDIS?
You know, Rose made a terrible cherry pie, once. Positively awful, but she looked so proud when she made it, I told her I loved it. Woman makes a much better companion than she does a cook.
Uh…all right. Now, tell me the secret to the code on your TARDIS, Doctor---
Now, by companion, I really do mean 'companion', because she was a rather terrible flatmate. Always left her clothing just around everywhere. Let me tell you, nothing is more frustrating than trying to take a shower and finding undergarments, undergarments strewn all about.
You're trying to stall, it won't work. That lock is unbreakable, and your current companion will never find you down here.
You know, I'm fairly sure it's rude to judge, but Rose really did have more interesting undergarments than Martha does. Martha doesn't leave hers about, but when she does her laundry, I wind up seeing a lot more of them than I want to. Rose's were all frilly and lacy and rather disconcertingly colorful, but Martha's are all…boy-cut and….and…what's the word? Functional, rather than flattering. I think it makes me a bit of a dirty old man to remember so much about my companion's underwear, don't you think?
Stop stalling, Doctor, tell me what the code for your TARDIS is.
My TARDIS? Oh, that, right, the code. You know, Rose always painted her toenails red, and I can't understand why Martha doesn't. I think she'd look rather nice in red. Not as nice as, you know, Nyssa looked in red, or how Jack looked in those high heels, but that's something I didn't even want to talk about back then, let alone now.
Tell me, Doctor!
You know what? Something else just occurred to me.
If this whole building is affected by the suppressed brain waves, that means bottling them makes it worse. And you're in this building just like me and haven't let a single one out yet. What's the code to these locks?
No! You can't!
Ooooh, but I think I can. You want to know a really, really big secret? I've always been cleverer than you. Allons-y!
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 814
No spoilers within, but based on this big-ass spoiler posted by the BBC