"Ah, thank you!" he says cheerfully, taking the whole thing. "Biscuit?" she asks, holding out a plate. She doesn't have to ask this time she knows who he is by the way his scarf is bending the space-time continuum. Say, you don't have any more of those little chocolate biscuits, do you?" "Need help fixing your ship again?" she says. He looks like a younger Victorian gentleman, with another velvet coat and flowing ginger hair.
#SAILOR PLUTO STATS SKIN#
It's been centuries since her last extradimensional engineering course, and she only passed by the skin of her teeth. "'Clown'? Well, I guess it's better than 'space hobo.' Look, are you going to help me out or not?" "You've never looked quite so much like an insane clown before." She returns her key to a standing position, but doesn't relax entirely. "Do you know anyone else with a temperamental TARDIS that keeps breaking down in your wherever-this-is?" "Don't be ridiculous! And point that thing somewhere else," he snaps, waving it off like he doesn't care (which he probably doesn't). She doesn't try to take his head off with the key this time she just aims it at his chest like a loaded weapon (which is precisely what it is). He's a perfect gentleman in that old-fashioned velvet coat. "Hasn't happened for you yet." He holds out a hand. "Oh, that explains it!" exclaims the man. ?" she echoes, on her feet again as quickly as she can manage. "I see what you meant when you told me to look out this time." "Venus! Where else?" says the stranger, looking down at her in some bafflement. "Where did you learn Venusian Aikido?" she demands. But she never expected it from someone with fewer than six arms. He catches it between both palms and pulls, making her own strength work against her, sending her tumbling to what passes for the ground. It doesn't matter whether he's there to use the Gate or has somehow stumbled on it unawares.
The first time he appears in her domain, she doesn't ask questions.